


What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

by ShaeraHaek



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Edit: Fixed Ushi´s dad´s name, Gen, Happy Ending, Life Crisis, M/M, Some of it, background bokuaka - Freeform, background matsuhana - Freeform, but hey, coz Im tired of reading all that angsty abusive ushiois, have some love, more to be added - Freeform, possibly, relationships written all based on real life observations, so is Ushi´s dad, sorry in advance, sorted according to relevance, tendou is a precious baguette, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 51,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaeraHaek/pseuds/ShaeraHaek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa said "Goodbye" to many people and things in his life and kept walking forward with a straight back. But saying the same thing to the strength that keeps him on his feet...<br/>Model!Oikawa AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Up and Down We Go

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Remember the Amputee!Model!Oikawa AU I said would never happen as a fic? Well guess what? 
> 
> Art to go with! (Spoilers? I mean... you already know what this is gonna be about but still?)  
> [Part 1 (It all started with this)](http://shaerahaek.tumblr.com/post/142816097456/haikyuuau-where-oikawa-is-a-model-for)  
> [Part 2 (And then I started slipping down that slippery slope)](http://shaerahaek.tumblr.com/post/143177640861/haikyuu-modeloikawa-au-iwaoipastushioi-so)  
> [Part 3 (The experimental part)](http://shaerahaek.tumblr.com/post/143237748451/haikyuu-modelamputeeoikawa-au-if-you)  
> [Part 4 (And now we are here)](http://shaerahaek.tumblr.com/post/147290710601/the-amputeemodeloikawa-au-continues-p3)
> 
> Thank you goes to [Awa-chan](http://awaywatcher.tumblr.com/) for having the golden patience to proofread part one and still keeping her right mind!!! Thank you for your hard work!!!

Saying 'goodbye' is always difficult - that's something people always say and something that Oikawa doesn't believe. He has never had a problem with saying goodbyes - or that's what he thought until the moment he finds himself standing in Aoba Johsai's gym, asking everyone for a moment of attention.

 _'I haven't said goodbye to the right people yet,'_ he thinks as he looks around at the faces of his teammates. He doesn't have a speech prepared like he usually does, but that doesn't matter anymore.

"Thank you for these three years!" He shouts at the top of his lungs, suddenly feeling butterflies in his stomach. They all start bawling at once, scrubbing their eyes and biting their lips. Oikawa doesn't hide his tears. He holds his head high and tries to smile, knowing that it can't save his horrible blotchy face. 

They keep practicing late into the night.

He walks home with Iwaizumi in a surprisingly comfortable silence. Oikawa knows his most difficult goodbye has yet to come. It's not like they won't see each other tomorrow, or the day after or anything like that, but for Oikawa, it’s like closing a finished book and opening a new one.

Iwaizumi tells him he probably won't be happy after he grows old, that he won't be completely satisfied with pursuing volleyball for a lifetime because he's troublesome. Oikawa doesn't know what he means, but he's glad Iwaizumi is the one talking first, so he listens, and memorizes every word.

"I know you will move forward without hesitation," Iwaizumi says, eyes turned towards the sky. When he finally looks at him, Oikawa holds his breath. "You're the partner that I can boast about. You're a really amazing setter, and even if the team changes, that will not change." He says it with such genuine sincerity, it leaves Oikawa speechless.

"But when we fight, I will defeat you!" Iwaizumi grumbles with furrowed brows and a stubborn squint.

Oikawa finally exhales. "Bring it on!" he says, feeling his eyes water again. Iwaizumi's eyes look the same. They bump their fists and grin at each other, parting ways on the crossroad.

When Oikawa comes home, he continues like it was any other evening. He helps his mother with the dinner, washes the dishes with a bit of urging, and afterwards takes a shower. He retires to his room with a quick 'good night' and silently closes the door behind him. He stands in his room without bothering to turn the lights on, playing with the strings of his sweatpants as he thinks about Iwaizumi.

They have said their goodbyes - kind of - and their silent promises, but they have avoided the one thing they refused to talk about for a long time. Oikawa throws himself on his bed and buries his head in the pillow with a heavy sigh.

"It wouldn't work anyway." He says to himself, "We wouldn't."

* * *

The rest of the year goes by quickly and the graduation is all tears, snapping pictures, shaking hands, and hugging. Afterwards, the coaches take the entire team for a last dinner where they laugh and eat and talk about future plans, enjoying their last time together. Iwaizumi sits next to Oikawa, an easy smile plastered on his face. They sneak a few glances at each other and whisper witty comments about whatever topic is being discussed, sniggering under their noses. When coach Irihata goes to order more drinks and everyone starts shouting their orders Oikawa catches Iwaizumi's eye and they wordlessly stare at each other until Makki and Mattsun notice.

"You know, it only takes eight seconds to fall in love if you stare into somebody's eyes?" Hanamaki says, wincing as Matsukawa jabs him in the ribs.

"You know, it only takes a reach of my arm to hit your face?" Iwaizumi replies without inflexion, slowly taking his eyes off Oikawa, who ducks his head and covers his smile with his glass.  

 _'If only you knew,’_ Oikawa thinks, looking around to see if anyone else has overheard.

Surprisingly, there are no more comments, but Oikawa avoids Iwaizumi's eyes for the rest of the hour. When Iwaizumi sneaks a hand under the table and grips his knee, Oikawa stands up and goes outside. Iwaizumi meets him a couple of minutes later and wordlessly sits next to him on the curb.

The silence doesn't last too long.

"So," Oikawa begins, rubbing the back of his neck, "Two and a something months and I'm leaving to Tokyo."

Iwaizumi scratches his eyebrow and sighs, looking away as he rests his chin on his palm. "That's it then," he murmurs and shuffles again, not knowing what to do with his hands.

"For now," Oikawa says, nudging Iwaizumi's shoulder with his own. When Iwaizumi finally meets his eyes, Oikawa quickly glances around and when he finds the street empty, he leans against Iwaizumi and welcomes the arm around his shoulders. He feels a hand rake through the hair on the back of his head and hears Iwaizumi sniff, but it's probably just from the chilly air.

"Yeah," Iwaizumi murmurs, "For now." There is a pause and then, "Your girlfriend is going to be heartbroken."

Oikawa shoves him away and they both laugh. "Asshole," he says and Iwaizumi's grin grows wider. "What about you?"

"Huh?" Iwaizumi hums, trying to catch Oikawa's hands to stop from hitting him again. "I don't think your girlfriend is going to miss me that much."

"You are the worst!" Oikawa grumbles, giving up the struggle in order to slide his hand into Iwaizumi's. They sit there in silence, staring at their hands.

"I'm not going to wait for you." Iwaizumi says finally, his voice tense, "And you are not going to wait for me."

Oikawa makes a silent hum, ducking his head. There is a noise behind them, the door is opening and then they hear a strangled 'oh, shit!' Iwaizumi looks backwards and withdraws his hand. Oikawa straightens his back and does the same. Only their shoulders are touching.

"That was Makki," Iwaizumi announces silently. They glance at each other and sigh until they both start laughing.

"Do you think he knows?" Oikawa asks in conspiratorial whisper.

"Maybe," Iwaizumi murmurs, nudges Oikawa's side, and stands up. Oikawa follows his suit and waits.

It seems like the dinner is over, going by the ruckus that's happening in the lobby. Iwaizumi gives him a frowny look, like he's struggling with words, but it gradually melts into a sincere smile.

"Don't hook up with idiots, please!" He says, "Tokyo is too far away for just an ass-kicking trip."

Oikawa laughs at that, a loud outburst, and his eyes fill with tears again. "Yeah, same goes to you! I'd hate to find you with a nagging wife."

Iwaizumi messes up his hair in reply, letting his hand linger. "You little shit."

"You two done here?" Hanamaki yells from behind them, startling them both. "The team is about to leave." He is looking at them with a nervous grin, his head peeking from behind the door he's holding half-closed. Matsukawa is lurking somewhere behind him, giving them a thumbs up.

Oikawa wipes his tears away, nodding.

"Alright everyone, get out!" Makki yells and slams the door open.

When the team starts to spill out and the air gets filled with lulling chatter, Iwaizumi leans towards Oikawa to whisper in his ear, "Oh yeah, they definitely know."

* * *

Two months go by faster than sand through spread fingers, and when September rears its ugly head Oikawa finds himself saying goodbye for the second time. Iwaizumi doesn't help him pack but he comes to the train station to see him off. They wave at each other through the smudged window.

That's the last time they see each other for a very long time.

University is not what everyone told him it's going to be - the food and accommodation are fine, arguably, but he barely has any time to socialize outside the people he lives with. He doesn't have the time to mingle with people as often as he would have liked, and getting into a relationship doesn't even cross his mind. His new team is welcoming and the coaches listen to him when he has something to say, but the regime is a bitter punishment. Getting signed up in the starting roster takes him a year, and after that, fighting for recognition literally costs him blood, sweat, and tears.

He twists his ankle in the middle of the second year which gives him an opportunity to go home for winter holidays a little bit sooner, only to get an earful from Iwaizumi on the phone and a lot of nagging from his mother. It’s fine, though, because it heals quickly and without complications. When he goes back, the coaches don't mother him - which is fine - but they've miraculously found somebody else to fill his shoes.

The fight for the spot on the roster begins again, and Oikawa shows no mercy. The coaches are more than thrilled.

Oikawa gets the spot back just before the competition between neighbouring universities start. There meets Ushijima. Their teams have the first match and when they're standing on the opposite sides of the court, Oikawa feels a little nostalgic. The sense of déjà vu is missing because there is no number one on their jerseys - Ushijima stands at the very end of the line, a big white twenty-four stretching over his chest. Oikawa looks down at his own number - a black thirteen - and meets Ushijima's eye. Something stirs in his chest. The heat of the competition is not quite the same as what it was when he was playing for Seijoh, but it is still alive.

Oikawa's team wins and he stands on the court, looking at the opposing team and waiting for a reaction. Ushijima nods at him in acknowledgement and that's it. A little disappointing but it still makes Oikawa's blood race. The following matches are less exciting - seeing the players struggle to return his serve is fun, but Oikawa's eyes stubbornly stray towards Ushijima's half of the gym. His setter meets his eyes with a challenge mudded by jealous anger. Oikawa wonders if Ushijima has already managed to compare them - most probably yes. He notices him staring back, so he sticks his tongue out, makes a victory pose and winks. Oikawa could swear he saw him rolling eyes.

He inspects the match schedule and almost shrieks when he feels a sharp jab in his ribs. Oikawa spins around ready for a rant, only to let out a shaky breath. Iwaizumi is standing there with a wide smile on his face. Oikawa throws himself into his waiting arms and loves how they almost squeeze the life out of him.

"I came to fulfil my promise." Iwaizumi proclaims theatrically after he releases him.

Oikawa's smile turns challenging. "Oh really? I feel like I should warn you - I'm on fire today! Just beat Ushiwaka," he boasts, cocking his head. Iwaizumi cracks his knuckles and promises not to spare him.

When they stand in line just before taking a bow, Oikawa mentally appreciates the extra mass of muscle Iwaizumi has put on. It's funny how much broader he is compared to the leaner rest of the team. The first serve is Oikawa's and he makes sure Iwaizumi knows who exactly he is aiming for. First point goes to Oikawa who takes a deep breath and puffs out his chest as he watches Iwaizumi slowly look back from the spot where the ball slammed against the floor - he didn't react fast enough. Iwaizumi stares at him with a feral grin and a glint in his eyes that makes Oikawa's blood boil. He evens out the score with a well aimed spike that leave Oikawa's arms tingling with pins and needles for the rest of the match.

The ball makes almost the same sound when it hits the floor as when Ushijima is spiking, but unfortunately for the team, Iwaizumi's strength is not enough to bring them to victory. Oikawa isn't sure why, and he doesn't really care either - he was too distracted to focus on other players and their play styles. The moment they are dismissed from the court, Iwaizumi marches past him, bumping into his shoulder. Oikawa asks the coach to excuse him from the official closing - the knee is bothering him and he thinks he needs to cool down a little - works like a charm.

He has his own private closing ceremony with Iwaizumi in one of the bathroom stalls. Oikawa really hopes nobody even passed the bathrooms because they both were everything _but_ quiet. It's funny how little restraint they feel after only two years of separation.

His teammates and coaches fuss over him, ask him if he's alright because he really looks messed up. Oikawa politely brushes them off as he goes to his seat - yeah he was really messed up. In the absolutely best kind of way. He has some time to think about the little tumble with Iwaizumi and he's genuinely glad he's sitting alone because he would hate to explain why he's sniggering to himself like a lunatic.

* * *

Two years later, another big thing happens. Oikawa is standing in one of Tokyo's best stadiums, black jersey hugging his body, with "Japan" stretching across his back. Oikawa is surprised how easy that happened, but on the other hand, it was to be expected. The cameras always loved him, the managers kept sharpening their knives to get to him since he got scouted in high school, and the coaches were always nothing but pleased with his performance. There was only one thing he felt queasy about - Ushijima. Clad in the same jersey, raking the same fame and receiving proud slaps on the shoulders with his rarely-changing straight face.

Oikawa tells Iwaizumi and the latter laughs while congratulating him.

"I can't wait to see you two you on TV." Iwaizumi says and Oikawa swears he can hear some wistfulness.

"What, you want to see me blow a fuse?" Oikawa grumbles, biting back a smile.

"Maybe we'll finally see Ushiwaka yell."

"Oh, I'll make him yell, don't you worry-" a pause, "Hold on, that came out wrong!"

But Iwaizumi is already howling into his ear. He sounds like he wants to ask something but he remains silent in the end. Oikawa doesn't ask.

* * *

 Working with Ushijima has its good and bad sides, but Oikawa is surprised how little confrontations they have. He's also surprised how civil they manage to be with each other - mainly how civil _he himself_ is to Ushijima. They don't hang out at clubs being all buddy-buddy with each other but Oikawa is capable of discussing strategy with Ushijima without a single spicy comment. Oikawa sometimes indulges himself in a little bit of teasing (which Ushijima either ignores with a stony face or just answers a little too honestly - Oikawa doesn't know which pisses him off more) but they work together surprisingly well. Oikawa congratulates himself upon successfully maturing. (Still, he can't forgo one last comment about coming to Shiratorizawa. Ushijima actually rolls his eyes and walks away from him. Oikawa is delighted, and doesn't feel the need to bring it up again.)

They have their bad days, or rather, Oikawa has his bad days - when the training is just plain frustrating, the journalists too dense and his serves stray off their path more often than not, he sees flaws where they aren't and gets a little too snappy, but Ushijima takes it with his usual stoic stride, opting to go out of his way like the rest of the team. It's not like Oikawa's mean but the way he talks takes a certain edge which is audible even through the pleasant tone. The team understands and accepts that - after all, everyone has their bad days. There is an unwritten rule about leaving a player be when something similar happens, unless he comes asking for help on his own accord.

The coaches are careful not to let Oikawa practice extra hours, but that hasn't stopped him before. Since Iwaizumi and his magical sixth sense is not present, Oikawa uses it to his own advantage. He is careful with his leg but sometimes his head is too immersed in the game to mind the physical discomforts - that usually happens on a bad day, when he's thinking about Ushijima's unique regime that even Oikawa is not able to keep up with. It's frustrating but that's why Oikawa quietly admires him.

Their first official match takes place in summer. Oikawa's whole body is buzzing with excitement and dread but the second his name is announced and he steps onto the court, the screams of the fans wash it all away, and only concentration remains. Ushijima stares at him from his spot, his chest rising a little quicker than usual. Oikawa gives him a definite nod - they are here to win.  

Japan verses China first, and they wipe the floor with them. Oikawa sends the last ball to Ushijima and the man slams the ball down with a force that sends it flying somewhere into the screaming crowd. Ushijima yells out a short, deep 'yeah' at the Chinese half of the court while his teammates pile onto him, messing up his sweaty hair. Oikawa's body moves on its own. He throws himself at Ushijima who picks him up with one arm as if he weights nothing, spinning them around. They don't care that they are possibly over-reacting but it's their first official match and they are successfully working together as a team. All of them.

When Oikawa checks his phone during the break he finds a message from Iwaizumi.

 _'That was a lame-ass yell. Congratulations!'_ it says. Oikawa laughs, but when he goes to type back and answer, he doesn't know what to write. He settles on a lame ' _thank you'_.

After the match against Korea, Oikawa is approached by three agents. They take him to the hallway, offering him their business cards and much better contracts than the one he signed with the Japanese team. Ushijima is down the hallway, too, and Oikawa keeps his eye out on him. He sees him shake his head and bow more than once - they must be really desperate. He counts to ten before Ushijima spins on his heel and marches away with a frown on his face. Oikawa keeps his agents in much longer suspense.

* * *

Their winning streak goes on for two whole seasons, bringing fame, money and a lot of annoying interviews - Oikawa enjoys them only because he has a chance to make Ushijima jump in front of a shit ton of people by jabbing him in the ribs or pinching his cheek every time he manages to sneak behind him.

During the winter season they play against European teams and they do fairly good until they play against Russia. That's the first time they are the ones who are wiped off the court.

Oikawa's phone is constantly buzzing with messages and calls while he's on the plane but he doesn't bother to return them. They are all either from agents trying to recruit him, or Iwaizumi who is surely threatening him not to overdo the training, and Oikawa is not in the mood to read _those_ , because training is what he's diving into until the next season starts.

But Iwaizumi is just as stubborn as him, and he doesn't care that he has to call the coach's personal number just to give him a sharp tongue lashing. The coach looks at him weird as he hands him the phone. Oikawa pouts the whole flight back but he feels a little relieved after hearing it.

It is not enough to stop him from extra training.

Oikawa starts spending more time in the gym than at home - he barely knows what his flat looks like anymore. He trains and trains and trains, ignoring the concerns of his teammates until one day, after four hours of non-stop serving, he lands on the ground and freezes. He stares at his right leg, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. He feels something crawl up his calf and right into his knee. Oikawa waits, and then slowly straightens up, feeling his leg start to cramp up. Flexing his leg, he holds his breath but feels nothing. Everything is alright.

Then he steps forward and cries out as his leg gives up from under him. He falls on the floor, blinded by pain and stays on his back with hands covering his eyes until he can breathe again and then waits a little longer.

He´s tired, sweaty, frustrated, and he absolutely doesn't want to go home yet, but he is not stupid enough to tempt fate and his damn leg. He has fucked up enough already. It's not like he can't stand - the pain is there, slowly throbbing and shooting up his thigh and right into his spine but it's not something he can't handle - he just doesn't _feel_ like standing up. Oikawa knows the floor is filthy and he's a grown ass man but throwing a little childish tantrum like he used to when he was seven and half sounds better with every passing second. He screams on top of his lungs and hits the floor with his fists first - that feels pretty good. Then he flips himself on his belly and starts crawling towards the door, refusing to use his legs. He's glad nobody is there to see him.

Only, there is.

Ushijima is there, looking at him with a mildly freaked out expression. They stare at each other for a beat and then Oikawa puts his face in his hands and listens to Ushijima's hurried footsteps.

"Are you alright?" Ushijima asks, putting a hand on Oikawa's back.

"Yeah, I'm fantastic." Oikawa grumbles, and lets himself get turned over. Ushijima helps him sit up. "What are you doing here?"

Ushijima is silent and Oikawa's stare is not enough to make him talk. He lets him check his knee even though he suspects Ushijima has no idea what he's doing. Oikawa keeps staring until Ushijima's hand stills and then it becomes a little awkward because their eyes meet and neither of them looks away.

Oikawa decides to try again. "What are you-"

"I am leaving." Ushijima interrupts, first to avert his eyes.

"I'm not throwing y-"

"I'm leaving the team."

Oikawa's mouth falls open. "Wh-" he stutters, mind blank. "What? You are-what?"

"I got a better cont-" Oikawa punches his face before he can finish.

"You didn't get shit, I saw you decline them! Stop lying to me!" Ushijima sighs and chooses to help him up instead of answering. "We were winning!" Oikawa cries, slinging an arm around Ushijima's shoulders and letting him sneak an arm around his waist in return. "We were a good team." He croaks, letting himself get dragged out of the gym.

"It's personal," Ushijima says when they are in car and Oikawa wants to know what's going on but he knows better than to prod at personal things. The unwritten rule still stands.

"Will you come back?"

Ushijima shoots a quick look at him and licks his lip. "What, are you going to miss me?" he asks with badly concealed amusement.

"You know, you're lucky you're behind the wheel - I'd punch you again otherwise."

They drive in silence save for Oikawa's uneven sniffling until they reach his apartment complex. Neither of them wants to exit the car so they just end up sitting there, staring at opposite directions.

"My dad is... in a bad shape." Ushijima says finally, breaking the silence. Oikawa looks at him - he's staring at the steering wheel, gripping it so hard his knuckles are white.

Oikawa hums, nodding his head. He knows what's coming.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you to the hospital?"

Oikawa shakes his head, taking off his seatbelt. "If I find you playing for a different country, I'm going to burn your dumb eyebrows." He threatens half-heartedly, opening the door. He wants to get out of the car before—

"Oikawa," Ushijima stops him before he steps out. "Goodbye."

He didn't make it in time.

"Goodbye, Ushiwaka."

* * *

The team welcomes another ace player - his name is Bokuto and Oikawa faintly remembers him from high school. He's friendly, easy to work with and has about as much strength as Ushijima. Maybe more. He's a little moody at times and Oikawa sometimes struggles with digging him out of his lows but that's only during practices. When they are in a competition, he's one-track mindset on the game and nothing else.

Mostly.

Sometimes he's a little distracted by the audience. Oikawa notices him looking at the stands, searching for somebody. If he finds them, he always turns that way to yell after a successful spike. If he doesn't find them, he turns towards the camera to wink and shoot his finger guns. Oikawa teases him about it a couple of times and asks him who is he looking for but Bokuto never tells. He gets all blushy and distracted before crossing his arms on his chest.

"What do the westerners say?" He rakes his memory for the right expression. "Oh, right! My _bae!_ "

Oikawa stares. "I believe you meant 'beau', Bokuto. That's French - or I think so."

Oikawa finally gets a glimpse of this 'bae' of his almost half a year later (he's pretty impressed by how well Bokuto keeps his secrets), and it turns out to be a man with slightly curly hair and an unimpressed look. Oikawa tries to put a name to the face but the only name that pops out is Sakusa but the last time he checked, Sakusa was busy winning matches for the American team.

They are invited to France for a couple of interviews before the fall tournament, which is when Bokuto approaches him, ears red and hands sweaty.

"I'd like to ask for a favour," he begins, eyes dashing around Oikawa's apartment. Oikawa expects things that range from _'may I borrow your room'_ to _'I need some money'_ but he sure as hell doesn't see _'come help me pick up an engagement ring'_ coming.

"I've got an appointment at ten tomorrow - we can go before that." Oikawa says when he recovers from the shock. Bokuto nods, bows and thanks him with an incredibly tight hug.

The following morning is bleak and rainy, but Oikawa enjoys dragging Bokuto through every jewellery shop they can find. He also finally learns about Bokuto's mystery lover named Keiji. Bokuto doesn't like flashy things – he doesn't so as much glance at the flashier pieces, but he endlessly inspects the plain but pretty ones. It's amusing to shop with zero language knowledge but they have their arms and legs and Bokuto made sure to put on that 'ask for anything by pointing at a picture' shirt, so they get the general message across. In the end, Bokuto settles on a simple silver band engraved with feathers and loops. He stares at the box in which he keeps the rings as if it were a gift from the heavens. Before they part, Oikawa receives another hearty thanks and an official engagement announcement.

"You don't even know he'll say yes," he laughs, looking up from the wording.

Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows and grins, "With my irresistible charm? Please!" He sniggers and takes a deep breath, speaking more seriously next. "We didn't keep his all in secret all the time for nothing."

Oikawa grins. "Well, you will surely steal all the front pages from me with this." He jokes but Bokuto shakes his head.

"Oh no, we're not getting married."

Oikawa is surprised. "How come? I'm sure it’s legal here somewhere. I mean - it's _Europe_."

"That's not for us," Bokuto says, shrugging. "But maybe someday..."

* * *

The weather gets worse with every step closer to the hospital. Oikawa loses his umbrella just after crossing the front gates, the wind literally ripping it out of his hands and blowing it away god knows where. He doesn't think he's going to see it ever again. With an exasperated sight, Oikawa enters the hospital.

The visit is just as unhelpful as the rest of them.

Oikawa stands outside on the stairs, waiting for the rain subside. He can't even say he's disappointed anymore because to be disappointed means he had to expect something beforehand and he can't say he had. It's always the same - _rest the leg, don't strain yourself, be careful, we can give you these and these pills and such and such ointment_ which doesn't help one bit. The massage was nice, though, but it relaxes his leg only for a short period of time. It keeps bothering him whether he strains it or not and he can't afford to skip practices for an extended period of time to see if it helps. He just can't afford to stop. Oikawa closes his eyes and listens to the rain, trying to force the agitated thoughts out of his mind.  

A set of hurried footsteps and a muffled Japanese curse wakes him up from his reverie in time to see a tall, totally soaked man in a long black coat step out of a fairly deep puddle. Oikawa hides his smile in his collar and watches the man jog up the stairs, admiring the broad figure, back slicked hair that's slowly falling down from the rain and a nice stubbled jaw.

Only, he recognizes the man.

The smile drops off his face and he's openly staring.

 _'Ushijima?'_ Oikawa thinks and the man's head snaps towards him, making him realize he accidentally said it out loud.

If it were a movie, Ushijima would have stopped next to him, he would offer him an umbrella and invite him out for a drink. They would sit in a ridiculously expensive restaurant, drink red wine, sneak glances at each other and make meaningless small talk  until they'd be no longer capable of thinking straight. Then Oikawa would demand Ushijima takes him home and insist he stays for a cup of coffee at eleven in the evening. Ushijima would accept and the rest of the night would be filled with a lot of moaning and banging and perhaps a few noise complaints from the neighbours, followed by a suicidal wave of regret and awkwardness in the morning of course.

But they are not in a movie and Ushijima doesn't have the umbrella. His step falters enough to stutter a surprised greeting and a shallow bow but he doesn't stop by to chat. Oikawa is too stunned to even think about feeling insulted. He keeps standing there, staring into distance thinking that maybe he's just imagined that. What is Ushijima even doing in France? Didn't he say his father was sick? Oikawa frowns - was he lying? But before he can get any further in that train of thoughts, a hand on his shoulder startles him.

Oikawa jumps and spins around to stare right into Ushijima's calm face. There's a sense of déjà vu that stirs in his chest but Oikawa doesn't have time to pay attention to that. Ushijima drops his hand and hides it in the pocket of his coat. He looks a little hesitant.

"Hey," he says, and Oikawa feels that deep rumble somewhere deep in his belly. "Want to go... get a drink?"

Oikawa feels his jaw drop. Ushijima waits for a moment and then sighs and looks away. Oikawa knows what he's thinking - he's bracing himself for a rejection and, possibly, a snarky comment. He stops him before he can take a step away and smiles. "Yeah," he says, ducking his head, "let's go get a drink." He looks at the gray sky that's still raining cats and dogs. "But let's wait until the rain stops."

* * *

They have a light dinner (or as light as French dinners can get) in a quiet bistro near the hospital and forgo the alcohol in favour of hot tea. The conversation isn't awkward but it's nothing groundbreaking either. Oikawa finds himself feeling quite at ease, and he doesn't tease Ushijima quite as much as he would have a few years ago. Ushijima walks Oikawa to his apartment complex on his own accord.

"How is your leg?" He asks when their conversation starts to falter. Oikawa knows there's no avoiding it.

"Same old, same old." Oikawa sighs. "You know, they can't do much with damaged nerves or whatever." Ushijima furrows his brows but nods. "So, what have you been doing there?" Oikawa continues, slowing down a little. They are almost near the complex where the team is staying.

"Went to see my dad," Ushijima says quietly. Oikawa likes how Ushijima still says 'dad' instead of 'father'. It's kind of cute. "I took him here to see the tournament. He's doing fine now." He's still not saying what exactly is wrong with him and Oikawa doesn't ask. Maybe Ushijima will tell him someday.

"That's nice." Oikawa hums and stops because they are already at the gates leading to the apartment building. "So when are you coming back?"

Ushijima suppresses a smile and looks somewhere behind Oikawa. "Who knows?" is all he says.

Back in his room, Oikawa thinks about calling Iwaizumi. He's holding the phone in hand, sitting on the bed after a nice shower, but his fingers don't move to dial the number. He puts the phone on the night stand and goes to bed.

They meet for a dinner two days later after Oikawa's interviews. And then again, another two days after that, just before the beginning matches. That's when Oikawa learns that Bokuto is leaving for a very long honeymoon. He starts getting suspicious. The fourth time they meet, they don't go to a bistro but to a restaurant with a nice view in the Eiffel Tower. Ushijima orders wine.

Oikawa analyzes him over a plate filled with shrimps - he doesn't look like he's in hurry to leave anytime soon. He walks him to his apartment again and this time, Oikawa does ask him if he wants coffee. Ushijima gives him a long look and accepts. In the elevator, Oikawa wonders if he really wants that coffee because he has absolutely no intention of making one; however, Ushijima is full of surprises. They step out of the elevator and while Oikawa fumbles with his keys, he notices Ushijima checking the hallway.

"How many people are here?" he asks. Oikawa pauses for a second - sounds neutral enough.

"Well, the team is here, scattered across the rooms but they are probably out for the night." Oikawa answers, not looking from the door. He hears a silent, clipped _'good'_ and the moment he opens the door, Ushijima spins him around, puts a hand on his jaw and kisses him, backing him inside. Oikawa's hands fly to the collar of Ushijima's coat without missing a beat, leg blindly kicking the door closed. They stumble through the tiny dark entrance hall, taking clothes off each other without bothering to turn the lights on. Oikawa swears into Ushijima's mouth when they stumble on the step that separates them from the actual room.

"You know, I really thought you'd ask for that coffee," Oikawa murmurs when Ushijima moves to bite his neck. He rakes his fingers through his thick dark hair and moans when Ushijima squeezes his ass.

"You don't have a single grain of coffee here, do you?" Ushijima asks in amusement, his fingers working on Oikawa's shirt. "Is it alright?" he asks, mouth pressed against Oikawa's collarbones, looking up. Oikawa puts his hands on Ushijima's clean-shaven jaw and tilts his head, planting a slow kiss on his lips.

"If you stop I'm going to throw you out a window." He threatens, enjoying the feeling of Ushijima's muscles as he runs his hands down his back.  
Ushijima grips Oikawa's thighs and heaves him up, leading them towards the unmade bed to fall down on top of it. "How do you like your coffee?" Ushijima asks, pushing himself up and then dragging his rough palms down Oikawa's chest.

Oikawa bites back a moan, stretching his arms to reach Ushijima's hair so he can tug him down to whisper in his ear. "Sweet." He whispers, playfully biting the lobe.

Ushijima makes the night really, really sweet, and the morning is blissfully void of any regret.

* * *

Ushijima jerks awake in the morning with an unexplainable feeling of dread. He looks around, bleary eyed and disoriented. It's not his bed, he notes as he squeezes the pillow and buries his face back into it. He inspects the room - small, plain walls, drawn curtains... He pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, dragging both hands down his face to rub the sleep away. He feels pleasantly rested and he knows exactly why.

He looks for Oikawa but the room is empty and when he checks the other half of the bed, he finds it cold. Ushijima is surprised to find his clothes hung over one of the armchairs rather than strewn all over the floor.  

Somehow, it feels even more awkward than waking up next to Oikawa would be. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't he be the one leaving Oikawa sleeping in bed and quietly sneaking out of the apartment? Before he can dive deeper into thoughts that may lead to a night spent getting wasted he finds a note on the table that disperses all the dark clouds of doubt that started gathering over his head.

 _'Had an interview to run off to. Coffee's on me.'_ It says. The rest of the space is filled by an abundance of smiley faces, hearts and some indistinguishable signs that make Ushijima's eye tick. There is a cup on the table, cheap brown plastic filled with dark liquid - undoubtedly from one of the vending machines downstairs. Completely cold, which reminds him that it's possibly pretty late. He looks at the folded clothing and doesn't bother to put on any of it. He goes to pick up his coat - the phone is in the inner pocket, and finds two unread messages from a number saved as a smiley face with its tongue out. Ushijima doesn't have to guess who that is.

The first message says _'you sleep like a damn log you oaf'_ , and it's followed by the same smiley under which the number is saved. It's from 7am. The second one is three hours later and it reads _'I just heard a very interesting rumour you owe me a fucking dinner you cow'_ and there is no smiley there. Ushijima sighs.

Well, so much for the secret.

He puts his clothes on, borrows a little toothpaste to clean his teeth, even if it's just with his finger, and strides out of the complex, nodding his head at the lobbyman who grins at him through the glass.

* * *

At first Oikawa is pissed off - Ushijima could have mentioned that he's coming back _before_  they  slept together. That would have been much better than hearing about it from an overly cheerful journalist the morning after and then from Iwaizumi literally fifteen minutes after the stream. Oikawa is so aggravated he trips over his own feet and almost breaks a camera. He spots his agent slowly shaking his head in disappointment from behind the lighting. 

He was almost tempted to tell Iwaizumi about his midnight escapade, because Iwaizumi just _didn't understand_ what the big deal was about - " _He's coming back? So what?_ " _-_ but what would he say? _'Hey, I just slept with Ushiwaka, actually left a hickey on his left butt cheek this morning because I couldn't wake him up and he didn't even bother to tell me, that's what this is about!'_ A great way of announcing that they have both overcome their differences - especially Oikawa. He doesn't tell him, partially because it was kind of a one-night stand and they don't really talk about those, partially because he doesn't feel like it should stay as just a one-night stand, and manly because deep down, Oikawa is a little afraid of telling Iwaizumi, even though he would have no right to get angry or anything. Oikawa knows he wouldn't, but he just didn't want find out what his reaction would be.

Oikawa punches a message in for Ushijima and goes on with the rest of the interviews and photoshoots with a minuscule edge to his smile.

Ushijima buys him that apology dinner later, and apologizes. Multiple times. Late at night.

* * *

Japan wins the third place in the tournament, with Poland being second and Russia taking first place. Oikawa feels a little bitter but he covers it up. Iwaizumi somehow sees through his facade even if he's just watching the stream and he calls him that evening just to tell him he looked like he had something wedged in his ass. Oikawa bites his tongue before he says a stupid comeback.

He meets Ushijima once before the team's scheduled flight back to Japan but it's during a gala evening that's filled with too many eyes and ears. They both conveniently have a female escort hanging from their arms, elegant, beautiful and absolutely not aware that neither of them are interested in them at all. Oikawa sees him first, talking to a man he faintly remembers from an interview. Ushijima looks quite uncomfortable - shuffling his feet, fumbling with his tie, sipping his champagne a little too hastily... The last one is a big giveaway for anyone who knows him just a tiny bit. On the other hand, the lovely and totally over looked woman at his side seems to be enjoying herself. She's Japanese - Oikawa squints suspiciously. He excuses himself from his lady and sashays to where Ushijima is as inconspicuously as he can, grabbing a champagne-filled flute off the bypassing waiter's tray with a wink at the lad.

Oikawa interrupts the conversation with a practiced ease.

"Look who I found!" He says, coming from behind Ushijima, actually making him choke on the beverage. Taking away his empty flute and pushing the filled one in his hand instead, Oikawa continues as if nothing happened. "Why is it that I have to find out last about you making big comebacks?" He laughs, squeezing Ushijima's shoulder to get the point across. "There's so many things we need to catch up on, friend."

"Uh, excuse me-" the interviewer tries meekly, but he has no chance against Oikawa.

"Oh, my! You are excused!" Oikawa laughs heartily, ignoring Ushijima clearing his throat. "I'm afraid I'll be taking over this off-screen interview now, thank you for holding him in place so long. He's dreadfully hard to find." He grips Ushijima's shoulder and drags him away, perfect smile never leaving his face.

"What are you doing?" Ushijima rumbles when they settle next to the balcony, champagne in hand, eyes scanning the crowd of rich people. Oikawa delicately sips from his flute, shooting smiles and small waves at anyone who so as much looks his way.

"What do you think - saving you from the horrible embarrassment that awaited you in the clutches of that incredibly boring company. Who is your lady-friend, by the way?"

Ushijima heaves a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging. He dawns his flute in one go and ignores Oikawa's spooked look.

"Are you alright?" Oikawa asks, because Ushijima just doesn't down his glass like that. Ever.

"I'm fed up with this place, is all." Ushijima sighs. "And that woman is my mother's choice."

Oikawa's head whips around to stare at him with wide eye and mouth agape.

"Traditional family, remember?" Ushijima looks away.

It takes Oikawa a few seconds to compose himself again and he can't help but to grin when he properly processes the thought. "Boy, you're about to get disowned then."

He doesn't know what it is with him and the bathrooms but it brings back pleasant memories. He's also not sure if he should be thinking about Iwaizumi while kneeling between Ushijima's legs, but whatever. At least these bathrooms are pristine.

They don't take too long, but they still get a few unwanted glances when they return to the party. From the team coach and his agent especially - he has that _extremely-disappointed-look_ thing going on again. Oikawa sends him a little shrug. He's probably the only one who knows about him and Ushijima. He _has_ to, since he'd be the one who'll cover them up if they overstep. Oikawa loves him because of that - as much as he can love a person who constantly nags - but his agent is prepared every time Oikawa starts something with anyone _not female._ He's nice, to a certain degree. A little like Iwaizumi - without that buff build and bisexuality, of course. A shame, really.

* * *

Oikawa doesn't return to Japan with the rest of the team, using the excuse of enjoying his off season time abroad, also reminding them that the therapist advised him to take a proper time off. He is tempted to send the ticket to Ushijima's lady friend instead but his agent threatens him with leaving if he does that.

The dates with Ushijima become less frequent. Mostly because Oikawa kind of moves in with him.

It is not right away, of course. Oikawa first goes through a small (according to Ushijima) illogical crisis before giving in. _What if the press finds out? His agent would tear him apart with his teeth if that happened. What if the team finds out? What would the coach say? What about their families?_

"We're in France." Ushijima finally speaks up from the couch, stopping Oikawa in his fretting. "How many Japanese do you think can speak French? We're volleyball players, not Hollywood stars, they don't know us that well."

Oikawa is stunned. "You know French!" He says it as if he's accusing Ushijima of something unspeakable.

The man sighs and finally looks up from the TV. "It's because my dad lives here and I come to visit him every summer."

"We're practically living in his flat-"

"Second flat." Ushijima quietly interrupts and gets completely ignored.

"-what if he decides to come for an unexpected visit and I'm here?"

Ushijima actually sits up and turns to look at him, face painted in disbelief. "You're worried about that?" He asks in astonishment. "He knows."

Oikawa has to sit down. "I'm sorry?"

"He knows about us. He doesn't mind - he was more upset with my mother trying to set me up with someone I had no interest in. He divorced her for that," he pauses to think, "and many more things that came before." He adds and walks over to where Oikawa is sitting. Ushijima puts a hand under his chin and closes Oikawa’s mouth.

"Do you want coffee?"

Oikawa swallows dryly. "Yeah."

At first he tells himself it's just a fling, nothing serious, but the more time they spend together, the more often Oikawa finds himself thinking about it - it was never just a fling. He thinks about it one night as he lies awake after a nice few rounds of sex, staring at Ushijima's sleeping face.

They are actually domestic. It's not ideal - they sometimes forget how to communicate, they argue over stupid stuff- Oikawa more often than Ushijima, but it's working. It's nothing like Oikawa's previous relationships. He remembers what his mother used to say - _'truly important is that it works in bed at the end of the day'_. Oikawa finds out that, yes, that is really what counts in the end and they have always worked in that area. _Exceptionally_ well.

But it's not just the sex he likes about Ushijima. Oikawa likes his many quirks, too, and he gets used to them ridiculously quickly, filing them in a small corner of his mind labelled with 'sentiment'. It's filled with Ushijima's habits and preferences and Oikawa always finds himself grinning when he thinks about them.

Some of the observations are like: Ushijima prefers to sleep on his belly, and if he sleeps on his back he tends to put a pillow over his eyes for some reason. Oikawa first thought it was to block out the sun but Ushijima wakes up ridiculously early, so it can't be that. He also snores - or, well, something like that. It's a comically soft snoring followed by 'puff' of breath that never fails to make Oikawa laugh. He also doesn't like to cook. He cooks when he has to and his meals are tasty but if he doesn't, he either leaves it to Oikawa instead, or goes out to eat. He likes watching baseball, morning teleshopping and he likes to drink a bottle of beer every other evening. He doesn't really like strong alcohol. He shaves almost every morning but sometimes Oikawa catches him frowning at the bathroom mirror and he knows Ushijima is thinking about growing a beard - he tried it a few times. It's not that it looks bad on him but it adds a few years and then Oikawa starts to get the feeling like he's dating his own father. Ushijima also likes to work out in the morning and that's one of the things Oikawa loves to wake up to.

And thinking about that, Oikawa comes to the conclusion that maybe it's the highest time to tell Iwaizumi.

Ushijima is watching TV again, draped across the whole lengths of their couch, remote in hand when Oikawa comes into the room with a worried expression on his face, staring at his phone. Ushijima gives him a quick glance.

"What's wrong?" He asks more out of courtesy than genuine interest.

"Hey, Wakatoshi," Oikawa starts hesitantly, eyes still glued to the phone, "We're dating, right?"

That definitely catches Ushijima's attention. It's the first name. He mutes the TV and turns his head to look at him. "Well, I take you to dinners, we have sex afterwards, and we practically live together. I should hope so." He has absolutely no idea what's going on and the face Oikawa is making - that genuine confusion and worry mixed with hesitation - is really making his shoulders tense up.

"I told Iwa... that we're dating," he pauses and finally looks at Ushijima, "And he laughed at me. He's still laughing." He presses the speaker on his phone and Ushijima hears the distant sound of laughter in the background. "I'm worried."

Ushijima turns to lie on his back and gestures Oikawa to come over. He does and immediately lies down on top of him, resting his chin on his chest.

"You should be," Ushijima says, "I think he's choking."

Turns out Iwaizumi is really, genuinely happy for them both as he conveys the message in a later call, after recovering from his fit.

"You're dating Ushiwaka!" He squeaks, taking a deep breath. "Well, I understand. It's kind of, like, not a big surprise actually. You know what they say - there's a very thin line between love and hate, and you've never really been good at balancing." He takes a breath and laughs again. "You're fucking dating Ushiwaka, God help me."

And the fit starts all over again. 

* * *

Life goes on, as it does, and Oikawa feels more and more restless with every day that brings them closer to the beginning of spring season. It is almost winter, which means they both should be at least thinking about signing moving papers and booking flights to Japan instead of lazing in the bed. It also means they have been together for three months now.

Oikawa flips around in the bed, glancing at the clock on his nightstand, silently lamenting about his brain not letting him sleep at five in the goddamn morning. He flips around again to stare at Ushijima who is softly puffing away on his side. Oikawa shuffles closer and cuddles under Ushijima's arm, but the man sleeps like a log.

"Wakatoshi," Oikawa whispers, hand travelling under the covers. Ushijima stirs with a sleepy hum. Oikawa nuzzles his nose against his neck and plants a kiss on his cheek, throwing a leg over his hip. Ushijima is starting to be a little more responsive.

"What's the time?" He asks sleepily, his hands sneaking to Oikawa's hips.  

"Something after five." Oikawa says and flips him onto his back to straddle him. He thinks briefly about the morning breath problem but Ushijima is not awake enough for it to be an issue.

"Isn't it a little too soon?" Ushijima protests lamely, readily returning the languid kiss Oikawa presses to his lips.

"You say that, but..." Oikawa sniggers and moves the covers while Ushijima puts his hands behind his head with a content sigh. "This down here doesn't think so. I'm flattered." He doesn't waste any more time pulling Ushijima's underwear off, throwing it on the floor. His shirt comes off a little slower, for the show and for baiting Ushijima to play with him -which he does.

However, before Oikawa can really get down to business, the door on their bedroom slams open, providing the perfect opportunity for Oikawa to learn about Ushijima's closest, and most annoying friend.

Ushijima acts as if somebody is about to open fire on them - he immediately grabs Oikawa around the shoulders and turns them over so he's shielding him with his body, tangling them both in the sheet.

"Rise and shine, honey!" The person who just casually came barging in screams on top of their lungs, freezing in the doorway, hand still on the doorknob.

Everyone stills - Oikawa is trying to breathe through the shock while trying to peek over Ushijima's arm at the asshole who just strolled in, while Ushijima stares at the door like deer caught in headlights.

"Holy fuck, Toshi!" The man exclaims, hands on his hips. "I can't believe I just caught you getting some!" He laughs to himself and shakes his head. "And I thought I'd surprise you - how the tables have turned!"

"Satori!" Ushijima exhales forcefully, all the tension falling off him at once. He lets himself fall back on the bed with a groan, massaging his head as the man continues to laugh. 

"Get out!" Oikawa yells as he sits up, ripping Ushijima's pillow from under his head to throw it at Tendou who barely ducks in time. He's staring at him with eyes bulging and mouth forming a small 'o'.

"Oh my God, Wakatoshi! Is it who I think that is?" He gasps and the laughing starts all over again. Ushijima groans and turns on his side, face hidden in his hands. Oikawa throws his own pillow this time.

"If you don't get out this second I'm gonna spike a fucking lamp at your face!" Oikawa shrieks and Tendou finally relents ducking out of the room with a hysterical laughter, thankfully slamming the door closed.

When silence finally falls in the room, Oikawa falls back on the bed, too, joining his upset partner.

"You've got horrible friends." Oikawa comments in hushed tone, blowing out an annoyed breath.

"He's not so bad," Ushijima grumbles, but he looks like it pains him to say it. Oikawa grins and shuffles closer, hands wandering again. Ushijima has never had a problem to get it back up. He presses a kiss to the corner of Ushijima's mouth first and then he lets the man take control.

"Let's make it quick before that asshole comes back." Oikawa urges when they pause for breath. He tugs at the short hair on the base of Ushijima's neck and welcomes the man on top of him, quickly spreading his legs. They are back at making out and don't notice the door cracking open.

"I forgot to mention," Tendou's voice announces quietly, but Ushijima doesn't stop this time. Oikawa doesn't even care anymore - he makes a point by lewdly moaning into Ushijima's mouth. Tendou clears his throat and continues in the same monotonous fashion. "Your dad's here, too, Toshi."

Ushijima freezes in the middle of the kiss and Oikawa watches how his eyes fly open as his brain digests the message.

"Bonjour!" They hear an unknown sheepish voice call from the front door.

Ushijima has never bolted out of the bed faster.  

* * *

The morning was incredibly awkward, to say the least. Oikawa finally met Ushijima's father, and while he was glad, he kind of spent wishing he could have done so in a different time. They both did. Because exchanging pleasantries would have been much better without Oikawa's mind whispering _'hey, nice to finally meet you, literally five minutes after I had an erection and your son was about to bone me'_. Oikawa bites his tongue after the first part and glances at Ushijima who is suffering through it with a stony expression. Somebody who doesn't know him would say he was taking it fine, but after knowing him so long, Oikawa knows that Ushijima conveys his discomfort in the amount of shuffling on his feet - and he's shuffling quite a lot at the moment.

His father notices of course, which makes the situation so much worse. The fact that Tendou is watching the entire exchange from the kitchen counter with his hand covering his shit-eating grin only makes Oikawa's urge to hurt him grow. Even Ushijima is throwing disappointed glances at him, though he stops Oikawa's hand before he can spill hot tea on him.

"I'm very sorry about this!" Takashi apologizes sheepishly and Oikawa has a hard time being mad. There is just something about the man... Oikawa has never met or seen Ushijima's mother but he thinks that Ushijima is more like his father than her. Even though the personality is almost a polar opposite. The eyebrows are definite trademark. He scrutinizes the man over the rim of his teacup, sitting next to his son who is slowly rubbing circles into his temples.

"What are you even doing here?" Ushijima asks, but the question is directed at the still grinning Tendou rather than at his father.

"Well, I thought--" Takashi starts but Tendou immediately cuts in.

"I wanted to surprise you," he says cheerfully, "I was flying back from Spain and I saw the interview - after the tournament, right? So I called your dad to make sure you're still in France before booking the tickets and I decided to swing by and stir some trouble!"

"No kidding," Oikawa remarks as he pours more tea for Takashi and goes to fetch Ushijima more coffee.

"Who would have thought I'd find you, well, in flagrante." Tendou wiggles his brows. Oikawa elbows him _on accident_ as he goes back to the table. He deserves it.

"I'm really sorry for the disturbance!" Takashi quickly interrupts, bowing his head several times. He scratches the back of his head and smiles, looking a little too flustered for a grown man. Oikawa can't help but to smile. He tries to imagine Ushijima in that kind of state - it's not that difficult in the end.

"It's okay." Oikawa smiles and feel Ushijima's surprised stare on his face. "At least we finally met!"  How can anyone stay mad at the man anyway? Impossible.

* * *

They go out for lunch that day, mostly upon Oikawa and Takashi's insistence. Oikawa keeps ignoring Ushijima's prolonged stares throughout the day and enjoys his time talking to his dad - who is really the reason behind going out in the first place. Oikawa didn't even realize it, but since he has gotten over the horrible morning, he and Takashi have not stopped chatting. The man was a real treasure - a volleyball player in his youth and traveller in his later years, Takashi has kept Oikawa's attention for the entire day with his stories.

When he asked him if he was also attending Shiratorizawa, Oikawa made a face.

"This one tried to get me in so bad." He says with a theatrical sigh, jerking his head at Ushijima who pauses his conversation with Tendou to listen.

"I did not," Ushijima corrects monotonously. "I just said you should have-"

"Yes, yes, come there instead of Aoba Johsai. You know I'll never let you let it live down." Oikawa grins, focusing on Takashi again.

Ushijima sighs and lets it go - it must have been some kind of inside joke in Seijoh because he's never going to understand just what is so funny about that - after all he only asked him that once.

Tendou makes a thoughtful noise next to him, bringing him back to the reality.

"They're really enjoying themselves, aren't they?" He comments, eyes jumping from his dad to Oikawa. "I think your boyfriend is trying to pick up your dad."

Ushijima gives him a long stare that really speaks for itself.

Ushijima is not so sure anymore when he's at the top of the Eiffel Tower, sitting in the overpriced restaurant at a separate table with Tendou, watching his father and partner animatedly talking over dinner. He stares at Oikawa, taking in his wide smile and glistening eyes and sighs dreamily - he really looks good.

"Or is it the other way around?" Tendou rubs his chin, snapping Ushijima out of his daydreaming. "I feel like we're... third-wheeling. Like, for real."

Ushijima purses his lips. "We sat at the same table when I took him here."

Tendou's head whips towards him. "Woah, you're the man, Toshi! A real romantic." He winks with a cheeky smile. "Want to try some moves on me?"

Ushijima sighs and digs into his plate. Well, at least they have time to catch up.

* * *

They part shortly before midnight. Tendou gives a quick apology for the morning along with a hearty slap on Ushijima's back and they both awkwardly wait as Takeshi presses a kiss on both Oikawa's cheeks and says his good bye. Oikawa excitedly waves after them before he gets in the cab and Ushijima slams the door after them.

"You have an awesome dad, Wakatoshi!" He says, the wide smile still shining on his face. "Why haven't you introduced us before?"

Ushijima feels his mouth quirk upwards. "And let him steal you from me?" He asks, catching Oikawa unprepared.

"What-we-" he stutters and Ushijima can't hold his laugh anymore. Oikawa is quick to recover, though. "Well, maybe if you were so good with your mouth like he is, you'd be able to steal my attention like he did!" Oikawa teases a nudges Ushijima's foot with his.

"You were praising my mouth a few days earlier, remember?"

Oh, yes, Oikawa remembers very well. His smile widens as he looks away through the window and then checks on the cab driver - he seems pretty occupied. He shuffles closer and presses his knee against Ushijima's, whispering into his ear. "Don't tell me you're jealous of your father! How about you steal my attention back this evening and remind me how good you are with your mouth then?"

Ushijima has no complains. Especially not after that horrible morning.

* * *

Oikawa does not forget the impending doom that presents itself in the form of the end of their lazing season. He grows more restless every day until he the cup finally runs over and another argument happens. Oikawa snaps at Ushijima for not worrying and Ushijima argues back in his usual calm that Oikawa frets too much. Oikawa storms out with his laptop and phone and holes himself up in a small coffeehouse to deal with his coach and his ever-prepared agent who answers him within three minutes of sending out the message. Then he feels like a total idiot because the agent tells him he's been in touch with the coach, Ushijima and, for some reason, Oikawa's French physician, announcing that all has been taken care of and that the coach has acknowledged that the rest is doing Oikawa good and that he should take a few more months off to get his leg properly healed.

Oikawa sits in the booth with his mouth open, staring at the screen. He really wants to cry.

He goes back to Ushijima's flat and feels like he's walking in a den full of lions, even though he knows Ushijima is probably the tamest one of them all. He goes in without knocking because they are long past that stage and silently closes the door behind himself, leaning his back against it. The flat is completely silent and the kitchen-living room vacant.

Oikawa slides his coat off, kicks off his shoes and pads towards the bedroom, leaving his bag at the doorstep. Ushijima is there, lying on the bed, dozing off. Oikawa hesitates but climbs after him, immediately waking him up. Ushijima only sighs and makes some place for him, no questions asked.

"Told you you were worrying too much." he rumbles before Oikawa can speak.

"I'm sorry." Oikawa says and lays his head on the pillow. He doesn't sleep. But he feels at ease just lying there and not fretting.

That is how their arguments usually are. Oikawa gets set off by something minor, he screams at Ushijima who patiently waits for him to be done in silence, and then Oikawa would get pissed at Ushijima for being so calm. He'd storm off, cool down and realize what an asshole he's been, then he would come back and apologize. They'd have make-up sex sometimes  - really, _really_ great make-up sex, and the next day they would continue as if nothing happened. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It happens again two weeks later, and then two weeks later _again_ , and Oikawa notices the pattern and bites his tongue for the whole following month.

Then his agent sends him a message that his coach wants him to go to an interview. Ushijima gets one, too, and Oikawa wants to ask _'why send them separately when we are-'_ and then he remembers that the coach still has no damn idea.

There is nobody to pick them up so it's up to them to get to the place and give the interview, and Oikawa is a little agitated at the idea that they should be going separately so they borrow Takashi's car and go together - Ushijima behind the steering wheel and Oikawa on his phone, giving him directions.

The interview itself was, to say, a complete and utter cluster fuck. The initial five minutes were pleasant as they could have been in the company of a way too excited young journalist and a bunch of young photographers. Oikawa thinks maybe he's growing old and he hasn't even reached his thirties properly.

The woman starts with easy enough questions about the matches, the tournament, the teams and such - that is alright. Both Oikawa and Ushijima answer them with a pleasant enough smile and a few jokes thrown in. Then she starts getting bolder, asking personal things. At first it's just about Oikawa's leg but he has endured enough questioning about that to answer it with a pleasant enough smile. But then she just plain crosses the line with the question about Ushijima's traditional way of life that just so happens to touch his mother's decision to choose a partner for him. He brushes her off expertly enough but then she dips further down the slide of the inappropriate, announcing that an unknown source has caught them hanging out on the balcony of Ushijima's flat. She drops it like a bomb, voice chirping and smile wide. Oikawa's voice drops off his face in a second and he quickly looks to Ushijima in time to see his face transform into an impressive frown.

Oikawa recovers first, and graces her with the sharpest smile he can, answering the question as flippantly as he can, blood roaring in his ears. He's thrown back to the time when he started going out with Ushijima and worrying his head about being found out. He remembers how Ushijima has told him there's no chance they'd be recognized. He's fuming.

They have somehow managed to talk themselves out of it, spinning some lame story about having a movie night or whatever and hoping the article would be published in an unpopular magazine.

Ushijima tries to pacify him, assuring him that it's probably going to stay in France and that there's not much chance that it will ever get back to Japan, their families or, god forbid, their coach. Oikawa lashes out at him instead in the car while having his agent on the phone listening to the entire argument. The agent assures him that he will take care of the matter and make an attempt to sweep it under the carpet if needed which leaves Oikawa to cool down in the silence of the car while Ushijima is stubbornly staring at the dark road.

It's ten in the evening when Oikawa finally throws his phone in the glove compartment. He is facing away from Ushijima, staring out of the window. The radio is off because it would be drowned out by the drumming of heavy raindrops on the windshield and the squeaking of the wiper. Besides, they have little to talk about. Oikawa keeps swallowing the painful lumps that keep forming in his throat, dreading the day he gets a call from his mother.

"It's going to be fine," Ushijima speaks, finally slicing the heavy silence.

"How can you be so calm?" Oikawa asks quietly, keeping his eyes averted. "Won't your mother be pissed at you if she hears about the true reason why you ditched her perfect choice?" Ushijima throws him a quick glance but remains silent. Oikawa takes that as a 'yes'. He wants to keep going but he's tired and he has spent enough time being angry at nobody in particular.

"I'm sorry," he says and he means it. He rubs his eyes to keep himself from dozing off and sighs. "I didn't mean to--"

He doesn't get to finish that sentence. There is a truck standing on the sideline of the opposite lane, its lights blinding them both as Ushijima moves his foot to gently press the break. Oikawa spots white sneakers shambling in the middle of the road and his hand flies to grasp Ushijima's, yanking it to the side. The car swerves, the tires screech. The silhouetted character in white sneakers outshined by the headlights of the truck gets burned into Oikawa's mind.

* * *

Ushijima is shaken back to consciousness by a rough hand. He blinks and glances around - a man is yelling at him, speaking in quick French and he's having a hard time catching up. He is cold and his pants are soaked. Ushijima looks down and finds himself kneeling on the rain-soaked road, hands scraped and head hurting. The man is still talking, pointing somewhere behind him but Ushijima doesn't understand. He shakes his head too quickly and winces. He tastes blood in his mouth. He spots another man sitting on the road with his head cradled in his hands. Ushijima recognizes the white sneakers.

' _Oh, yeah. That's right,_ ' he thinks _._ He's crawled out of the car. He looks around again.

The car... that's in the ditch.

There's glass shattered all around him.

* * *

There's something dripping all over his face, cold and biting, and it doesn't let him sleep. Oikawa doesn't understand what's happening. His body is numb, he's lying down and  staring at the sky. Somebody is shouting but he hears it as if somebody has covered his head by a thick blanket. The whole bed is shaking. _'No, you're in a car'_ -his mind corrects. His body is too heavy to move.  

A head pops into his vision. Dark, handsome, hair dripping wet. Ushijima. Oikawa blinks owlishly, his head spinning. Ushijima is shouting at him. No, that can't be. Ushijima never shouts. Never raises his voice or gets angry. But he looks angry... maybe angry is not the right word. Frantic? Oikawa wants to speak but he can't. He wants to tell him how weird he looks with teary eyes and blood covered face. He feels his own hot tears trailing down his temples.

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I try to keep things as realistic as possible, so yes, everything is based on real life relationship observations, the 'truly important is that it works in bed at the end of the day' is really true, bless my mother for the advice!  
> The last scene is something that happened to me - or, could have happened to me, if there was a ditch next to the road. Thankfully there wasn´t. The drunk guy with white sneakers was alright, too. Never seen him again but I´m sure as fuck going to remember him forever. 
> 
> Part two coming... who knows when? Gotta lot of work to do but it is already in progress. That is where the Iwaois are really going to hit it off. But brace yourselves for angst first. 
> 
> Would be lovely if you left a comment and a kudo if you liked it! You know that is the thing that keeps me going!  
> Sorry this turned out to be so long! (It was supposed to be a oneshot but well... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)


	2. The Sword of Damocles Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the angst and shattering of hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So, my original plan to make this a 2 parter failed so yay! It´s gonna be a 3 parter!
> 
> Music for this chapter - really recommended [Mogwai - Slight Domestic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDYBEDbzY28)
> 
> Proofreading done by the loveliest [Awa-chan](http://awaywatcher.tumblr.com/) <3

Iwaizumi walks down the quiet, wide corridor with a clipboard tucked under his arm, legs carrying him at a pace that screams the end of the shift. A headache is pounding in his head, and the sterile smell that follows him in everywhere is not helping it one bit. One would have thought he would have gotten used to it after three years of working at a hospital, but _no._ He is not one of the lucky ones. He passes the day room, and looks at the flickering lights with a minuscule tug of the corner of his mouth - it's been three days now, and it still hasn't been fixed. He should probably go tell the maintenance guy _again,_ but he can't bring himself to care anymore. Not after a day spent in a nursery room filled with screaming babies.

What is enough, is enough.

He goes straight to his office to exchange the white coat for a black one, pack his stuff, and finally get home. Throwing the clipboard carelessly on the table, Iwaizumi notices a pink sticky note on his computer screen. He squints at it as he adjusts the collar of his coat - it's a phone number written in neat signs, name is missing. He doesn't need it, though, he knows it's from the cute new nurse that has been bringing him coffee every morning. Iwaizumi grins, but leaves it there. Maybe he'll make use of it later, but today, he's had enough of social interaction.

The security guy downstairs nods at him while he punches the code for a big black coffee to go in the vending machine, but returns to his newspapers right away. Iwaizumi grabs the cup, glancing at his watch as he slaps a lid on top. It's more of a reflex after moving to Osaka, since the trains come and go every three minutes. When he steps out of the hospital into the cool air, he feels all the stress miraculously fall off. 

The station is as full as always, but that is to be expected from a big city. Iwaizumi joins the crowd, scanning the walls for a flap display over the sea of bowed heads. Five more minutes, he finds out and presses the coffee to his lips, taking a sip. It's finally cooled down to a temperature where he can drink it without boiling his tongue - not that he doesn't drink it scalding anyway, but one can simply not comfortably sip a hot coffee while walking without receiving at least a few unwelcome surprises. Iwaizumi's eyes travel over the walls as he waits, searching for some form of entertainment to pass the time. He spots a wide TV screen suspended on the left, right next to a small kiosk - that's rather new. He's sure it wasn't there a couple of days earlier. The news are on and Iwaizumi's head remains turned even despite the lack of sound. The reporter sits at the table a little too sternly - Iwaizumi can immediately tell her back is aching. He sniggers in his mind.

Professional deformation.

The reporter grips the papers and shuffles them around, her brows creased and mouth opening and closing with clipped syllables. She seems upset, and she's bowing her head a little too many times. Then two photos appear next to her and Iwaizumi pauses with the cup just inches away from his mouth. It's the player profile shots of Oikawa and Ushijima - but it's not sports news. What would the two of them do in a regular news report? Have they been found out? Iwaizumi knows they are in Paris now - and have been for the last who knows how many months already, being domestic with each other, living the homosexual dream. He frowns, shuffling on his feet. The train is about to come, but the curiosity about the report makes him want to go closer to the screen - maybe he'll be able to hear something.

He slowly nudges his way through the throng of people, muttering silent 'excuse me's whenever he feels a boot under his sole. He tries pushing through as gently and carefully as possible, but the clearly he sees the photos, the less careful he is. He gets a few ugly glances and upset murmurs, but he keeps going until he's right under the screen, staring at it with wide eyes, the crawling in his gut transforming into a cold hand that grips his insides.

He can see the headline now. The reporter and the two photos disappear, an image of a car wreck taking place in their stead. Iwaizumi stops in his tracks, his mouth hanging open, eyes fixed on the images that make Iwaizumi's head spin.

A bunch of policemen talking on a dark road covered by shattered glass, a grim faced fireman walking away from a car wreck with cutters in hand, an ambulance with two medics tending to an unknown person on a stretcher.

Iwaizumi stands there, numb and ignorant to the screeching of the breaks as the trains arrives. People bump into him as they filter into the coach, murmuring under their breath. Iwaizumi just keep staring at the screen, ignoring the puddle at his feet from the coffee that slipped from his hand.

The last shot is showing a man covered by a blanket sitting in a different ambulance car, legs hanging down and face cradled in his hands. Iwaizumi doesn't need to see his face to know who that is.

He hastily pats his pockets and takes out his phone, dialling Oikawa's number. _'Please, let it be a bad joke,'_ He wishes as he waits for the beep.

"This number is not availab-"

Iwaizumi punches the end call button before the woman can finish her sentence and tries again. The same. He stares at the screen - the news report has moved on. Still nothing. He wishes he had Ushijima's number.

He lets his arm fall to his side, letting the robotic woman repeat that the number is unavailable for nobody to hear.

* * *

Ushijima sits in front of the recovery room, staring at the closed door with blood-shot eyes and tense shoulders. The nurses and doctors keep shooting glances at him, but he stubbornly ignores them. They tried sending him away with the excuse of rest, and he knows he should probably do so, but he just _can't._ His conscience won't let him rest. His aching body keeps yelling, yearning for sleep but his mind won't let the sleep come - not when Oikawa lies behind those doors, and the doctors refuse to let him in. Family members only. They don't care that they have been in that accident together.

Never in his life has Ushijima wished more to be married.

He sits on the uncomfortable plastic chair bolted to the wall, back bent and mind abused by guilt and dread. A small child in a two-sizes-too-big gown is padding down the hall with her bare feet. She stops to look at him, finger in her mouth, eyes wide.

"Bonjour," She greets quietly, and when Ushijima greets back, she cracks a little smile.

"There you are!" Ushijima hears the echo from down the hall. It's Tendou running towards him. "What aren't you in your room? You know how difficult it is to ask for you in a language I don't know?"

Ushijima sighs and stands up, his body protesting. He wants to ask just _how did he get in here_ , but the voice won't come out. Thankfully, Tendou knows him long enough to read from his face. He jabs a finger over his shoulder.

"Your dad is arguing at the reception and I just... slipped past," He clarifies.

Ushijima nods and turns to the little girl, only to find the spot empty - she is already padding into her room. They stand there in awkward silence, Tendou seizing him up with his eyes, silently judging him with a worried face. Ushijima sighs again, and drops back into his seat. Tendou follows the suit, looking around his eyes stopping on the recovery room sign. He doesn't ask. The silence is suffocating. Ushijima knows Tendou is just buzzing with questions, but the silence is all that keeps Ushijima from breaking down in tears. There's a lump in his throat and a pressure behind his eyes that keeps building up ever since the man has joined him.

"I got out with a concussion and a few scratches, can you believe that?" Ushijima finally gives up and speaks, the tears immediately flowing over. He doesn't bother to wipe them.

When he falls silent, and his mouth sets into a thin line, Tendou rocks in his seat, joining his hand in front of himself.

 "What - what's up with him? That's a post-surgery room, right?" he asks quietly, stubbornly staring ahead. He's never seen Ushijima cry - not after a win, not even after defeat, not when he broke his hand - never. He was always the composed one, the strong one. Always on top of things. But now? Now he's being dragged down by whatever lies beyond the door.

They hear footsteps from down the hall. A doctor with a nurse at his side walk past them. Ushijima recognizes the man - the one who forbid him from visiting Oikawa. He stops by them, shuffling through his papers, saying something in rapid French.

"What did he say?" Tendou asks when the doctor enters the room. Ushijima shakes his head and presses the heels of his palms against his eyes.

"We fucked up," He croaks instead. "I have fucked up." He feels Tendou's palm on his shoulder, squeezing and shaking him gently.

"It's not your fault. It was a damn accident!"

His speech gets interrupted by the doctor walking out - he doesn't spare them a glance this time. When the nurse peeks out through the door and says something in a calm, soothing tone, Ushijima raises his head, wincing at the pain that shoots through his spine.

"Where are you going?" Tendou asks, looking from the nurse to Ushijima.

"She says he's up. He's-" Ushijima pauses, grimacing.

Tendou keeps glancing between them for a second longer before he pushes him in. "Go, dummy!"

The nurse nods sympathetically and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Ushijima slowly approaches Oikawa's bed, and stands there not knowing what to do or say. Oikawa is awake, dully staring into the distance. Ushijima tries to swallow another lump in his throat but it stubbornly remains there. Oikawa looks horrible - hair one big mess, sickly pale skin littered by scratches, glistening with a sheen of sweat, tubes hanging out of his arms. His chest raises and falls a little too quickly, and there are dark circles under his eyes - Ushijima knows it's not from lack of sleep. His eyes slide lower over the place where his legs are.

That is the worst part.

"I didn't understand a word they said," Oikawa rasps, his voice barely audible. "He kept talking and talking, and I just... don't know what he's saying." Ushijima feels a new wave of tears wash over him, but he keeps them at bay this time. "It's like a bad dream, right? It has to be!  I can still feel it," Oikawa is not crying, but the blank face is much worse than that. "I can feel it, so it's still there right?"

Ushijima lowers himself on his knees, and rests his forehead against the bed, hiding his shame in the sheets. "I'm so sorry," He whispers when he feels a hand rake through his hair.

"It's fine though, right?" Ushijima freezes, glancing up, staring straight at Oikawa's smiling face. His stomach lurches. "It was the fucked up one."

"Oikawa," Ushijima pleads, climbing to sit on the bed. He grasps Oikawa's face in his hands, in haste, but still gently, and presses his forehead against his. "Please, stop!" He keeps repeating as Oikawa murmurs back ' _it's fine_ 's with a smile on his face, over and over, until his throat finally closes and tears spill out. Oikawa's hand fly to grip Ushijima's hair as he squeezes his eyes, and sobs into his shoulder.

* * *

Oikawa wishes he could make a legit request to be put in medically induced coma for the following two weeks at least. He's moved into a bigger, empty room with three other beds that remain unclaimed for the rest of his stay, which leaves them free for whoever is visiting him to make themselves comfortable. Not that many people come.

One of them is his agent. He comes whenever he has news to report and business to talk about -which he tries to avoid for Oikawa's sake, but it's not always possible. Oikawa tries to be patient with him during those times.  Sometimes Oikawa wakes up to him talking to his parents on the phone- he knows immediately because of the pleasant, assuring tone he doesn't use with anybody else. Those calls are the most painful. Oikawa has asked him to put them on speaker once, but once he heard his weeping mother sob through the speaker after he announced that, _no, he absolutely doesn't want to see them now, while he's in such pathetic state_ , he hasn't talked to them since. He leaves it all to his agent and his silver, calming tongue. Sometimes Oikawa wakes up to him screaming and threatening to gun down any nosy reporters and paparazzi that are trying to wring information out of him, or, God forbid, get into the room. It never fails to amuse him - the man could hardly hurt a fly, and he's never held a gun in his life.

Another visitor is Ushijima's father. He comes and goes randomly, and Oikawa is not always lucky to wake up to catch the man but he always leaves a clue: fresh flowers on his table, a gift basket, a stuffed plushie or a stack of envelopes Oikawa avoids like the plague. That's what his agent is for. When he does catch him, Takeshi always graces him with a kind smile, and drags the nearest free bed closer to sit on and talk. It's never something serious - it's usually something goofy or cheerful from his travels, and for some reason, it always makes Oikawa fall asleep. He also suspects that he bullied his way in, because whenever he is in the room, the stern faced doctor that has once thrown Ushijima out of the room backs out of there a few shades paler. The ever-pleasant smile never leaves Takeshi's face.

The last person who comes to visit, and who stay there longest, is Ushijima, of course. Those visits are a bitter lie for them both. Oikawa wants to cry every time he sees him.

Ushijima asks him if he's alright, if he's still in pain, and Oikawa says 'no'. Then Oikawa would ask him if he has slept, and Ushijima would lie right back at him with a tight voiced 'yes'. They don't call each other out on their bullshit - Oikawa suspects it's because they both believe that if they keep repeating it, maybe it will come true soon.

It doesn't.

Oikawa suffers on his bed, biting his lips bloody to keep himself from moaning in pain, but there is no fooling Ushijima. But neither can the dark circles and vacant stare fool Oikawa. They play their little game of make believe, and suffer together, lying side by side on the small wobbly hospital bed, Oikawa's back pressed against Ushijima's chest.

Oikawa pretends he doesn't feel the tears wetting the fabric of his shirt, and doesn’t hear Ushijima's quiet sniffling. He tries talking to him, telling him it will be fine while the drugs still block the pain but as they wear off, he gets tangled in his own hazy words. Ushijima tries to take over with the assuring but he's really awkward at whispering nonsense.

"You suck," Oikawa says with a hidden smile, wondering how is it possible that Ushijima still has tears left to cry. Ushijima sighs behind him, and rubs his nose against his back. Oikawa lets him but scrunches his face. He wants to talk to him about things.  About the spring season to which Oikawa won't return. He wants Ushijima to go, to train, to get back in shape and be famous, but he wants to go with him. Oikawa bites his tongue and intertwines their fingers.

 The nurses got used to finding them like that and long since stopped trying to separate them.

* * *

Fourteen painful days spent in hospital were not enough to prepare Oikawa for the hell that follows.

He thought staring at the slowly dripping morphine hung above his bed, urging it to drip faster, to work better was a torture enough - after all, the doctors told him, as Takeshi translated for him, that the pain is going to slowly ebb away. Oikawa believed them, and tired to keep his hopes up.

It did not. And it didn't just drag Oikawa down alone.

Ushijima wheels him into their flat on the small wheelchair borrowed from the hospital, hauls his bag in, and hangs his coat in silence. Oikawa pushes himself into the small kitchen while Ushijima's unpacking their things, and pauses to look at the table - covered in dust. He can't even bring himself to be upset about it anymore. Ushijima has spent night and day at the hospital with him, and no amount of pleading - from Oikawa, reasoning - from his father, or threatening - from the doctors, could have made him go home to have a decent night of sleep.

Oikawa glances at the man, and feels a sharp stab in his heart at how much he's aged in just two weeks. He looks at the bag filled with packages of morphine in his lap, and starts taking them out, stacking into a pyramid on the table.

Ushijima pauses to look at him on his way to the bathroom just briefly enough for Oikawa to catch a glimpse of his guilty frown. He slams the door behind him. Oikawa bites his nails while listening to the dulled sounds of shower, stopping only when he feels blood drip from his fingers. He stares at the carnage he's done to his finger, and promptly collapses the damn morphine pyramid.

How the fuck can he still feel the damn leg after literally biting off his finger?

* * *

The nights are the worst. They sleep in one bed, Ushijima on his side - a habit he has developed after only 14 days of trying to cram his bulky body onto a tiny, already occupied hospital bed, and Oikawa on his back, staring at the ceiling, wishing it would just collapse on him and end his suffering.

_'Fucking liars, fucking liars, fucking liars, it's not going away, please go away, please let me sleep, please don't wake Ushijma up.'_ He keeps repeating in his mind, grinding his teeth to keep himself from making a sound, body tense like a string ready to break. He is pretty sure his sweat has already made it through the entire mattress.

Ushijima stirs next to him, and Oikawa holds his breath.

_'Please don't wake up, please don't wake up!'_ He chants in his mind until Ushijima flops himself on his belly.

Oikawa releases a long, relieved breath and goes back to staring at the ceiling. The pain in the leg that is no longer there is driving him mad, but he refuses to give in and ask for more pain killers.

The same happens the next night. And then the next, and the one after that. Then the even burning morphs into sharps spikes of pain that travel up to his spine, and one is fortunate enough to startle a loud keen from him. Ushijima sits up on the bed as if he got electrocuted.

"What's wrong?" He asks, and Oikawa feels his breath on his face. He blindly reaches for him, hand colliding with his shoulder, and grips him so hard even Ushijima winces.

"The pain killers," Oikawa croaks through clenched teeth, his spine arching from the bed. He can't think about anything else but another dose. He doesn't even bother to lie to Ushijima anymore.

The man bolts from the bed, and the next Oikawa knows, he's being sat up from the bed, and offered a pill he hungrily gulps down with the blissfully cold water. Ushijima brings another one, and settles behind him, holding him in his arms until he passes out from exhaustion.

Oikawa knows Ushijima hasn't slept for the rest of the night when he sees him in the morning.

* * *

Ushijima is at end of what to do. At first he thought Oikawa was really getting better, only to find out that he was trying to cover up his suffering by trying to be as quiet as possible. Ushijima feels a little sick thinking about that for a few days afterwards. He doesn't get why Oikawa is trying so hard to get over it on his own when he clearly _can't,_ but on the other hand, what can Ushijima do? Find the doctor who assured them so vehemently that the pain would go away gradually, to beat him up for lying? Trash the hospital for screwing up? Is that really the case? They have done their job, and saved his life, ruining it at the same time.

Ushijima is tired, sleep deprived, and frustrated. He's angry, and he wants to direct the anger somewhere, take it out on someone, and be done with it. He argued with his father for nothing - _nothing! -_ and then almost broke his fingers by punching the wall because he felt so dumb afterwards.

It keeps getting worse, for Oikawa especially. Ushijima is more and more agitated by the fact that he wants to cover it up with blatant lies, saying _it's alright, he's fine_ , when Ushijima can clearly see how tense he is and hear his teeth grinding to keep himself quiet. Ushijima calls every doctor in the branch, visits every charlatan hidden in the nooks and crannies of Paris, asking them for help but nothing helps. Oikawa is still in pain, and there are no better days - only bad and worse. And Oikawa still smiles at him, still pretends that he can function like a normal person, makes him coffee in the afternoon, and kisses his cheek to draw his attention away from the mess on the counter that his shaking hands made.

Then one day, Oikawa gets better. His hands stop shaking, and his smile becomes more relaxed, and even though he has trouble moving around, Ushijima lies to himself that it's just because he's tired from the lengthy exertion. He keeps asking him: _'are you fine, are you in pain?'_ but Oikawa's answer is a drunk, happy smile, and a mumbled _'no.'_

Ushijima's feels the heavy stone of guilt and dread lift from his chest. He's so happy that Oikawa's doing better -that they both can catch some afternoon sleep first time in what feels like forever - that he doesn't realize that the delayed and drowsy reactions are a symptom, not a post-effect.

They are lying on the couch like they used to, Oikawa napping with his back pressed against Ushijima's chest, while Ushijima surfs the channels of the TV, his eyelids feeling heavier with every second. He finally feels like they've done it, that they got over the worse, and he can't help but to grin as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He presses a kiss against Oikawa's shoulder, lips lingering on his skin. He feels a little cold, so Ushijima carefully extracts himself to retrieve the blanket from the bedroom. He throws it over Oikawa and goes to relieve himself, huffing out a long growly sigh as he stares at himself in the mirror.

He looks horrible - Ushijima turns his head, critically squinting at his blood-shot eyes, rubbing his stubbled jaw. Maybe it's time to finally shave it. Later. He should also take some vitamins, he concludes after he rakes his hand through his hair, frowning at the amount that comes off. He goes to the kitchen, and rummages through the cupboard where they keep all medicine taking out a box to see better. He shuffles through the contents, his hand freezing. Is he hallucinating? He goes through the boxes again.

"Oikawa? Where is all your morphine?" He asks, frowning at the box. He gets no answer. "Hey, sleepyhead, did you move the rest of it?" Ushijima opens the single remaining box, finding only last three pills. Didn't they give him like three boxes or something?

"Hey," He whispers when he crouches down in front of Oikawa's face, the box in his hand. "Oikawa," Ushijima breathes, staring at his face, brain not catching up. Oikawa's eyes are half-opened, pupils like pin pricks, as he stares blindly at nothing, barely breathing.

"Tooru," Ushijima calls urgently, dropping to his knees as he turns Oikawa over. "Dear God, can you hear me? Tooru!" Ushijima throws himself at the table to get to his phone, hastily punching 122, and missing for the first two times with a curse. He presses his fingers against Oikawa's neck - the pulse is there, only barely. He tries talking to him but he's not responding.

The ambulance arrives within minutes, but Ushijima feels like it's hours. He sits next to Oikawa, fingers pressed against the place under his jaw where he feels the pulse faintly beating. The medics find them like that, and after doing a quick check up and sticking a needle into Oikawa's arm, they carry him out on a stretcher. Ushijima doesn't give them the space to ask if he wants to follow in his car. He follows them out, they usher him towards the passenger seat where he sits with face cradled in his hands. The driver tries to calm him down, but Ushijima doesn't bother to listen to him.

* * *

He sits on the same uncomfortable plastic chair in a poorly lit hallway, phone pressed against his ear.

"Oikawa has overdosed himself," He tells his father, just as Tendou comes running towards him, out of breath. Ushijima looks at him, giving a pathetic nod in greeting. Tendou falls on the chair next to him, hands awkwardly stuffed into his pockets.

"How did I not see him take it?" Ushijima asks, covering his eyes. Tendou is silent. "The worst part is, I don't know if he did it on purpose or not."

Ushijima spends the night on that uncomfortable chair, staring at his feet.

* * *

Oikawa is thankfully released a day later - the doctor offers them a list of numbers for therapists, both physical and psychiatric. Oikawa doesn't even glance at it - or at Ushijima. He hasn't spoken a single word to him ever since he was released, and Ushijima is worried about the worst.

He carries Oikawa up the stairs, and sits him on the couch while he busies himself with unpacking, counting the new batch of morphine. They gave him 10 gram ones this time. Ushijima joins Oikawa on the couch and finds him crying.

"I'm so sorry," He says and lies into Ushijima's lap, who mutely welcomes him, cradling him in his arms. "I know what you're thinking," Oikawa continues shakily, his voice catching in his throat. "I didn't do that on purpose. I swear I didn't!"

Ushijima bites his lips, smiling bitterly. He can breathe better now.

"I was in such pain I just didn't know what to do anymore. The pills weren't working, so I started taking more, and I couldn't stop. I finally stopped feeling the pain - no crushing, no pins and needles. I even slept through the night!"

"Why didn't say something sooner?" Ushijima asks, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. I just, didn't know how. I'm so sorry. Forgive me!" Oikawa pleads, and Ushijima hugs him tighter. He's already forgiven him.

"Throw the list away, I don't need the counselling! I was not trying to kill myself." Oikawa says, wiping his tears and composing himself a little. "It's good they gave us the smaller dose - I want you to take them and hide them. Don't tell me where. I'm not going to go through your things, but I don't trust myself anymore. I want you to give me the doses."

Ushijima nods, "Okay. Yeah, I will. Just... don't scare me like this. Ever."

"I'm sorry." Oikawa repeats, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry for this, too. I don't want to burden you more - it's enough you need to deal with all my shit already. I just-"

"No, it's okay. I'll take care of you."

Oikawa huffs out a laugh. "I'm so horrible. Putting this on you."

He keeps repeating he's sorry for longer but Ushijima doesn't mind. He's glad Oikawa is alright and not suicidal. He'll do anything to get him through it.

But that is easier said than done...

* * *

They make a schedule - Ushijima hides the pills in his bag, and gives Oikawa one every four hours. At first, it seems to work fine, Oikawa is clenching his fists from time to time, but it works for the most part. They can finally say there are better days, even if they are very sparse. Oikawa tries to take it positively - he's sure he's on a good way to recovery. The stump of his leg is almost healed - only one or two more weeks, and he will be able to try on prosthetics - Oikawa couldn't be happier.

Ushijima is lulled into a state of calm, but the voice in the back of his head is still nagging. Tendou buys groceries for them, bringing them in every two days to keep everything fresh. He makes fun of them for that.

"You can afford a proper big flat, but you eat your money instead." He laughs as he puts the groceries away, knowing where everything belongs already. "Takashi sends some fresh milk bread!" - as usual. Oikawa grins from ear to ear, extending his hand to receive the package that Tendou throws at him.

He still looks like death heated over and his forehead glistens with sweat, but at least some colour has returned to his cheeks. Ushijima breathes deeply and relaxes next to him, stealing a bit of his bread.

The nights are more or less fine. Ushijima has his alarm clock set to give Oikawa his dose, catching him in the right moment, just before the pain returns. Then a bad night happens, and both of them spend it awake, talking about high school to keep their minds occupied. The rest of the week goes on similarly.

* * *

The bad nights return shortly before Oikawa's appointment for prosthetics try-out. Ushijima wakes to the sound of strained huffing, and knows immediately that something's wrong. Oikawa is lying on his back, eyes rolled back. Ushijima abruptly sits up, red flags blowing in his mind.

"Are you alright?" He asks urgently, grabbing Oikawa's hand.

"Fine," Oikawa grits out, "I'll be fine."

That night marked the beginning of a nightmare. Oikawa starts visiting the therapists after that - one to get him back on his feet, and other to help him cope with the pain that refuses to go away. Oikawa refuses to give up, he exercises every day, meditates, talks to his psychiatrist even though he hates it, and still tries to make that afternoon coffee for Ushijima, handing it over to him with a smile. He tells Ushijima about every session, and he lets him help with the stretching and walking, but Ushijima feels that something has changed.

He tries to deduce what it is, but it keeps slipping from him. Oikawa still kisses him with the same passion as before, he still makes his coffee, talks to him even more than before, but the look he gives him is so different.

Everything is the same, and yet it isn't.

Ushijima tries steering the conversation towards that _something_ that has changed, but every time he tries, Oikawa smiles at him, and tells him it's nothing. Maybe it is really nothing, and Ushijima's sleep-deprived mind is playing tricks on him, while the paranoid voice in the back of his head buzzes in his ears.

Then Tendou comes to deliver their groceries again, and Ushijima's suspicion gets confirmed. Tendou is unusually quiet, and not at all discreet about side-eyeing them as they lounge on the couch in their usual nesting position.

"Is everything alright with you guys?" He asks between doors when Ushijima goes to see him off.

"Why are you asking?" Ushijima asks sarcastically. "Sorry, I didn't mean - it's just -" He sighs, and the frown on Tendou's face deepens. "No, actually, there isn't. For a long time, actually." Another sigh and then, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap."

"It's alright." Tendou assures him, squeezing his shoulder. "But listen, you need to take a break."

"You mean like I should leave Oikawa alone?" Ushijima jumps in, anger flaring. "After what happened, I can't just - he's changed. Something has changed, and I have no idea how to fix it, and it's driving me crazy."

Tendou stares at him, at loss of words.

"Listen," He starts hesitantly, "You know that if you need anything, you can call me, or your dad. I'm not saying you should leave him, but you need some time off. Both of you. When was the last time you slept properly, hm?"

Ushijima finds out he can't answer the question.

"Think about it." Tendou tells him. "I'm not in hurry to get anywhere, so you'll have to deal with my nagging for a while longer. I'll bring you some mangas if you like, eh? Lighten the mood?" He jokes lamely, shrugging. He looks like he has more to say, but bites his tongue instead.

* * *

It's a week later when they hit the unavoidable breaking point.

Oikawa's pain keeps them both awake at night, and the dread that ate Ushijima's mind away starts nibbling on the last bits of sanity he has left with every pained moan Oikawa makes. Ushijima raised his morphine dosage a few days before, and it's still not working. Ushijima screws his eyes shut and swallows the bile that raises to his throat when he feels Oikawa writhe next to him.

Ushijima moves closer and hugs Oikawa from behind, breathing against his neck. He feels his cold, clammy hands grasp his forearms, nails painfully digging into his skin.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Oikawa repeats breathlessly, relaxing his grasp. He blindly searches for Ushijima's cheek, and then slides his hands into his hair, tugging at them when another spike of pain shoots out to his spine. "I can't take anymore," He whines, arching his back.

Ushijima tightens his hold, pressing his lips against Oikawa's shoulder. "Don't!" He whispers back, eyes still shut tight.

"I can't, please, Wakatoshi, please, give me one more! I can't take it anymore."

"Don't, please don't do this to me!" Ushijima breathes against his ear. His stomach makes another flip, and his throat aches from the lump he cannot swallow. Oikawa keens in pain, jerking again, and Ushijima can't do anything but to hold him and wait. "Shh, it's going to be fine. You've been so strong, don't break now."

"I can't take it, Wakatoshi," Oikawa breaks into tears, hands clawing at everything he can reach. Ushijima quickly grabs them, entwining their fingers to stop him from hurting himself. Oikawa struggles against him, tries to twist around but Ushijima holds him tighter, resigning to the role of a live straightjacket.

"Wakatoshi, please, I'm begging you! Just one more!" He's not whispering anymore. Ushijima squeezes him, and shushes against the back of his neck.

"Please! _Please!"_ Oikawa cries, sobs wracking his body, as he keeps begging, louder and louder, until Ushijima wrestles to catch both his arms with one hand, sneaking his other to cover his mouth.

"Forgive me, Tooru. Forgive me." Ushijima is crying, too. Sick to his very core, he holds his palm over Oikawa's mouth as the man struggles against him, his muffled screams bouncing off the walls of their bedroom. He doesn't know what to do except asking for forgiveness, so he keeps repeating those words for so long they lose meaning. 

Ushijima realizes Oikawa's quiet and his body limp when the first rays of sun peek through the curtain. He relaxes, and moves his arm in a more comfortable position to hug Oikawa, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He wipes the damp, curly hair off his sweaty forehead, and presses a kiss on his cheek. Oikawa closes his eyes, forcing out what's left of his tears. When Ushijima feels the first tremors of his body, he carefully extracts himself, going to the kitchen for the pills. He returns to the bedroom, the carpet muffling the falls of his bare feet, and presses two different pills into Oikawa's mouth. He swallows them without hesitation, downing the glass of cold water in one go.

Ushijima puts the glass next to the alarm clock, sits on the ground, forehead resting on his knees, phone ready next to him. Oikawa puts his hand against his neck, fingers caressing the bumps of his spine.

When the hand falls limply to the side, Ushijima checks his pulse, and runs to the bathroom to empty his stomach. After that, he unlocks the liquor cabinet, and for the first time ever, reaches for a bottle of whiskey. He sits at the kitchen table, pouring himself one glass, and then another, and another, until he can't feel the bitter taste anymore.

The neighbours come knocking at his door at nine - undoubtedly the noise complaint - but Ushijima ignores them, his eyes fixed at the arm that hangs from the bed.

* * *

Tendou arrives around one as usual, letting himself in with a happy drawl of 'good day!' Ushijima acknowledges him with a small nod, and a barely audible greeting before he downs his nth glass. The bottle is half-empty.

Tendou doesn't notice the state he's in until he enters the kitchen, where he pauses like a deer caught in headlights. Ushijima can see him looking confusedly from his face to the glass in his hand and back several times form the corner of his eye, before his head whips towards the bedroom.

Ushijima closes his eyes, hesitating for a second, before drowning the bitter liquid without even wincing.

"Jesus Christ!" Tendou drops groceries carelessly on the floor, and dashes into the bedroom. Ushijima sighs, letting his head loll backwards.  

"What the fuck!" Tendou hisses through clenched teeth, stomping back to the kitchen. "What the fuck did you give him - have you lost your mind?!" He's angrily pointing at the bed on which Oikawa is passed out. "What did he take?"

"Morphine," Ushijima says, his voice raspy, "And sleeping pills. I checked on him-"

Tendou interrupts him by taking the glass from his hand, hurriedly downing it. Ushijima mutely refills it when Tendou thrusts it towards him, and then continues. "I took precautions."

"Yeah? You know what? I don't even want to hear this." Tendou says, throwing himself in the nearest chair. "Why didn't you call me? I told you to call me if something happens!"

"At three in the morning?" Ushijima scoffs humourlessly.

"I don't care!"

"I couldn't-" Ushijima slurs, dragging a hand down his face. He rests his chin in his palm, elbow on the table, and stares the almost empty whiskey bottle with haunted eyes.

Tendou hesitates, before quietly speaking up. "What happened?" But Ushijima is silent, shaking his head. "Alright, so what's gonna happen now?"

"Now we're going to wait until he wakes up, and hope he's feeling better."

"You should sleep, too."

"No, I can't. Not until he wakes up." Ushijima fingers the neck of the bottle, and then goes to get another glass.

"You can't even walk straight," Tendou comments dryly, slapping his forehead.

"I've never been this drunk in my life." Ushijima says as he puts the second glass on the table, throws a bag of ice next to it, and collapses in the chair.

"Yeah. Well, it's gonna be worse soon, don't worry." Tendou drawls with a huff. He pours another round, and crinkles their glasses together. "Cheers, buddy! I won't leave you alone in this."

Ushijima grasps his glass on the second try, and raises it up. Tendou raises his brows, impressed that he didn't spill a single drop of it. "Cheers!"

They kick it in at the same time, and slam the glasses on the table. Tendou hisses through his teeth, grimacing.

"I fucking hate whiskey."

* * *

Oikawa enters the room like a ghost - silent and pale, wrapped in a fluffy, maroon blanket. Tendou looks up from the magazine which has been his only company for the last four hours after he talked Ushijima into taking a nap. He jumps in his chair when he sees him before he mutely points his finger at Ushijima, who's passed out on the couch. Oikawa wobbles over, and carefully lies down on the man, startling him awake.

Tendou purses his lips, and watches. It's eight in the evening, and he's run out of magazines to read. He's been sitting there in silence since four, listening to the quiet ticking of the clock, and Ushijima's infrequent snoring.

"You reek of alcohol," Oikawa comments with a smile, the side of his face pressed against Ushijima's chest.

"Sorry."

"Mm," Oikawa shakes his head, re-arranging the blanket around him. Ushijima moves his legs into more comfortable position for Oikawa to lie in. "I finally slept properly. I even had a dream."

Ushijima is silent. Oikawa glances at Tendou, who's watching them as a soap opera, eyes wide, expecting.

"Let's sleep some more." Oikawa decides, flipping Tendou off when the man makes a disappointed noise.

Oikawa patiently waits until Ushijima starts snoring before smooching his cheek. Ushijima stirs, but doesn't wake up, and Oikawa climbs off him, joining Tendou at the table.

"I need a favour." He says, making Tendou look up from the fashion magazine he's been pretending to read.

"Oh... my." Tendou hesitates, leaning back in his chair. "I'm all ears."

* * *

When Tendou finally leaves, Oikawa makes some herbal tea, makes himself comfortable in the armchair at Ushijima's feet, and dials a number, eyes never leaving the slumbering man on the couch.

His agent picks it up before the first beep is over.

"How much do you love me?" Oikawa asks innocently, blowing his tea.

"Uhh," The agent hesitates, "What's going on?"

Oikawa sips from the cup, and places it on the table, picking up a stack of papers instead. "How much money is in my bank account?"

"A lot."

"And how much can you get out of my insurance?"

"Even more, why are you asking?"

Oikawa pictures the man's suspicious squint and smirks, playing with the rim of his glasses as he inspects the documents. "We're doing some investing. And you're going on a trip."

His agent sighs, filling the speaker with a crack of static. "To where?"

"America."

"Okay? Anything else?"

"Yeah," Oikawa sighs, looking at Ushijima's unshaven face. "Call the coach, and tell him Wakatoshi is coming back for the spring season."

* * *

Oikawa decides to wait with _the talk_ till the end of the week, just so he can bask in their little lovely lie for a while longer, enjoying the bits of comfort as long as he can. Ushijima knows right away that something is coming - not just because Oikawa's phone is vibrating his way off the table every three minutes - and doesn't comment. They both leave the sword of Damocles hanging above their heads, pretending that it's not there.

After all, they are already used to it - it has been there, waiting, ever since the accident happened.

Oikawa approaches him while he's watching the news, still in conflict with himself - is the right time now? Is it not? But Ushijima decides for them both by turning the TV off, sunken eyes cast downwards. Oikawa sits down next to him, resting his head on his shoulder, and sneaking his hand into his. He is quiet for a long time because he has no idea how to start even though he's been planning it for a good while. He doesn't want to sound too sentimental or cliché - but he knows it's unavoidable. Despite everything, he still can't help to be reminded of the countless episodes of soap operas he's watched as a kid with Iwaizumi.

"Remember how we planned to return to Japan together, to come out to the team and the coach, maybe let him have a heart attack, and then get to the Olympics to win the gold?" Oikawa asks, squeezing Ushijima's hand as the man nods. "I booked tickets for you - to go back."

"I won't leave you!" Ushijima frowns at him, nostrils flaring as he tries to control himself.

Oikawa smiles at him, worrying his bottom lip. "That's too bad - because I'm leaving you."

"Tooru--"

"No," Oikawa interrupts, "No. Look at us. Look at you!" It takes a lot of strength to keep his tears at bay. "Look at what I do to you! When was the last time you slept? When you didn't have to worry about somebody? What's happening to me is bad enough, and I've been dragging you down for too long now." 

Ushijima is shaking his head, wrapping his arms around Oikawa's frame, burying his face in the crook of his neck. "You can't leave. I can't let you go - not after what happened. Don't do this to me!"

"I'm sorry, Wakatoshi. I can't hold you back anymore."

"You're not-"

"I am. You should be back in Tokyo, training with the team, not taking care of a cripple who can't live without his regular dose of morphine."

"Stop it!" Ushijima shouts, drawing back with an outraged expression. Oikawa is not even surprised anymore. He puts his hands on either side of Ushijima's face, and stares into his eyes.

"I won't be able to play ever again," He says, knowing that Ushijima has a protest on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't let him speak. "But you can, and you will. For me, for your dad, for yourself - I don't care. You love volleyball just as much as I do - and it tears me apart to see you hold yourself back because of me. I don't want that. We haven't been together long enough for you to throw your career away just for sentiment. You're not guilty of what happened to me."

Ushijima gathers him in his arms, and Oikawa does the same. He rakes his fingers through Ushijima's knotted hair, and stares at the ceiling, imagining the sword finally falling down.

They don't cry - they can't anymore.

* * *

Oikawa is leaning against the wall in the hallway, favouring his left leg since he's still not used to the artificial appendage. Takashi passes him, hands full with Ushijima's bags, eyes downcast. It is not because he's pissed - maybe a little, but considering Oikawa practically ruined Ushijima's life and mental state, it's pretty understandable - but it's mainly disappointment and bitterness over the fact that their relationship turned a one-eighty turn, and a slide down a very slippery slope, very quickly. He's very understanding though, and keeps offering as much help as he can. Oikawa suspects it's because he's lived through his own rough relationship time, and seeing his son go through the same is not an easy thing for him - even though it was not as serious as an unhappy marriage.

Oikawa bites the inside of his cheek and tastes blood - a common occurrence. Ushijima interrupts him with a hand on the small of his back that guides him into a hug. Oikawa snorts bitterly, squeezing his eyes shut as he nuzzles against Ushijima's rough cheek - if anybody had said to him that one day, he's going to watch Ushijima leave and feel himself being torn apart, he would have laughed in the person's face. He doesn't feel much like laughing now.

"Take care of yourself." Ushijima whispers, pressing his lips against Oikawa's left temple.

"You too." Oikawa replies, enjoying the hug for as long as he can, letting go when he hears Takashi's awkward cough from outside. "Thank you. For everything."

Tendou pops out from the kitchen, hand waiting for Ushijima to give him the keys for the apartment.

Oikawa watches Ushijima cross the threshold, meeting his eyes for the last time.

"Goodbye!" Ushijima says - Oikawa hates it.

_It's better like this for both of us,_ he thinks with a sigh when the door closes. Oikawa stands there, biting his nails, mesmerized by the doorknob. He can practically feel Tendou itching to make a comment. He is not disappointed.

"You know, there is a thing Americans do..." he trails off, waiting for approval. Oikawa turns around to stare at him, leaning against the wall, still not feeling like limping back to the couch. He arches an eyebrow at Tendou who takes it as a 'good to go' and presses play on his phone. The speakers start playing a slow song. Oikawa rolls his eyes and lets the man help him walk to the kitchen just as the last _"what you say"_ plays. 

"I appreciate the attempt to lighten the mood."

Tendou purses his lips, nodding. "I feel a 'but' coming but I'm not going to let you finish."

"You hold on to that humour as long as you can," Oikawa groans, lowering himself onto the couch. He sticks out his hand, and Tendou wordlessly plops a pill right in the middle of his palm. "We'll see how long you'll last."

"At least I'm not a drug addict." Tendou quips, sitting next to him. They grin at each other, too widely, too forcefully, and watch the TV together.

At night, when Oikawa is screaming into the pillow not to wake up the neighbours, Tendou sits at the table, staring dully into the distance, chin in his palm. He wonders how Ushijima managed put up with it for a month without putting a bullet through Oikawa's head. He puts his head phones on and turns the volume to maximum, sits back and keeps turning the morphine box in his other hand. 

In the morning, Oikawa shambles out of the bedroom, blood shot eyes, messy hair, and wrapped in a blanket. Tendou doesn't even look up from the table.

"Good morning, sunshine. How's your humour doing?"

Tendou sits back and stares at the ceiling. "You said there were good nights?"

Oikawa hums, taking out two cups and a box of coffee. "This was a good night."  Tendou rubs his face with a nervous sigh. Oikawa grins at the teakettle. "You're gonna love me so much by the end of the of the week."

Tendou groans. "I hate you. Just why did I agree to this?"

"Enjoy your coffee, honey. You're doing great!"

"You just want to torture me because I blocked your ace so many times back in high school! I know it!" Tendou thrusts an accusative finger at Oikawa who's grinning at him over the rim of his cup.

Tendou pauses for a second. "You're awfully cheerful considering everything," He says thoughtfully.

Oikawa takes a sip, shrugging. "Well, I just broke up with and sent away the man I love, so my survival depends purely on sarcasm."

"Oh," Tendou balks, "The big 'L' word."

"Yes, the 'L' word. What? Did you think I lived with him because of taking revenge on you? Please, you're not that important." He laughs.

"I'm hurt. Also, I know Wakatoshi keeps the recorded matches, so..." Tendou trails off meaningfully, tilting his head towards the TV. Oikawa sighs, shrugging - why not?

Halfway through the second tape of Seijoh losing, Oikawa throws a pillow on the floor, making an annoyed sound.

"Does he have the one against Karasuno?"

"You want to rub it in my face?"

Oikawa grins in delight. "Oh, absolutely."

"So," Tendou starts again, and Oikawa hears the change of topic before it's put into words, "About that favour. I made some calls - I expect you to pay for the bills for them - and they said they will get in touch with you, and let you know the conditions."

Oikawa nods in satisfaction.

It was time to get on his feet again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how did you like the chapter? Comments would be sooooo nice!!! >


	3. Watching You Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IwaOis finally meet!  
> Enjoy the Rollercoaster(tm)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rememer when I said this is gonna be a one shot? LOL I LIED!!!
> 
> Thanks goes to [social_monstrosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/social_monstrosity) for being the fastest beta/proof reader I have ever met!! 
> 
> Special mention to Rinny whose support stopped me from hitting the delete button, and Ryu/Coff(yes, I´m gonna call you this, you can´t stop me) whose love for my fics pulls me thru da day!  
> Also Awa-chan!!!! Thank you for encouraging words!! (and the second beta read!!) 
> 
> Best music with this is literally everything from Sleeping At Last (especially: Neptune, Goes On and On)
> 
> **To those who also follow It´s Complicated: formal apology for making you guys excited with an upload - I accidentally uploaded this in there.... COZ IM FUCKING STUPID SORRY!!!!**

Oikawa feels like he is born again. His life is a clean slate - almost like a clean slate. He is a white sheet of paper stuffed into an already written book, attempting to cover the last, badly-written pages he can't rip out.

The pain is still there, making his nights harder, but he is slowly learning how to cope. How to take his pills and how to regulate his breathing when it becomes too much. He picked up yoga, because yoga helps with everything - he remembers how he used to scoff at that. He doesn't do that anymore.

Oikawa sips his coffee from a cheap plastic cup, concentrating on proper breathing as he sweats in his parka in front of the airport exit, adjusting the collar every few seconds because the fur keeps tickling and sticking to his neck. He's boiling underneath all the layers, but his nose and cheeks are freezing. He manages to type a short mail to his mother, informing her that _yes_ , he is safe, the flight was fine, and he's going to let her know how everything went after he's done with it. He hears a honk of a taxi, and looks up to see the driver waving at him.

"Did you order a cab?" The elderly man asks, sweeping the faded flat cap off to scratch his balding head.

"Yes," Oikawa calls, biting his tongue at how thick-accented that came out. He's glad for the chilly air - it hides his blush. The man laughs, and steps away from the car, taking Oikawa's suitcase.

"You go sit down, I can handle these." The driver says, pushing Oikawa towards the door he holds open for him.

Oikawa smiles, makes a quick bow, shoves his cane in, and climbs right after, struggling to stuff his leg inside without kicking the seat covers.

"So, where's it gonna be,...boy?" The driver says after he climbs behind the wheel.

"Here," Oikawa says, resisting the urge to bite his tongue. He gives the man a paper with three addresses.

The driver whistles as his eyes dart over the lines, and then extends his hand, making Oikawa jump.  "Bob, Nice to meet you."

Oikawa shakes the initial shock off with a small laugh, and shakes the man's hand, offering his own name. He forgot that Tendou warned him about the overly-friendly attitude.

Bob flashes him a perfect, white smile so artificial, Oikawa blinks to make sure he saw correctly. They are quiet until they leave the airport, but Oikawa does notice the man glancing in the back mirror a little too often, visibly edging to start a conversation. He is not disappointed. 

"What brings you to America?" Bob finally asks, "No, no, don't say it,-"  he interrupts before Oikawa can voice his answer. " An exchange student? Hold on, I know the address - the second one," He taps the paper with his finger, harrumphing, "It's a rehab institute - I've been there for a while, recovering myself - it's for that limp of yours, isn't it?"

He doesn't give Oikawa enough time to elaborate.

"Well, I can say, myself, that it is a good place, they're gonna help you, son! They are good people there. What happened to your leg, by the way?" Bob asks, glancing in the mirror again. Oikawa is worried about the ride at this point, because the man is hell bent on keeping eye contact.

"A car accident." He replies with a pointed look at the road. The man doesn't take a hint though.

"Ah, yes, yes. Those are bad, very unfortunate. People are not being careful these days. Did you know they make self-driving cars now? How dangerous that is? In my days, we--"

Oikawa wishes he could tune the conversation out - by radio, music, or anything, really - he searches for a driver protection screen he could shut close, but the car mocks him with the absence of it. He longingly looks at the measly fifteen percent battery on his phone, and curses himself for forgetting to plug it in on the plane. It's not really that he wants Bob to shut up completely, but listening to old people moan about innovations running over people or screwing up when he's hoping to turn his leg into a movable mainframe is not very encouraging.

He thinks about putting his headphones on just to muffle the sounds, but he doesn't want to be so obviously rude. Bob gives out the feeling like he hasn't talked to anyone in a long while, so Oikawa just sits back and pretends he is just a very annoying, old radio, and stares out of the window as they slowly drive into the maze of skyscrapers.

They stop at the hotel at first; Oikawa races out of the car as fast as his aching leg lets him, throwing himself at the trunk to dig his suitcases out, but jolly old Bob is there, at his side, with his artificial teeth, giving him a pearly smile, and taking the suitcases out of his hands. Oikawa returns the smile somewhat bitterly, and purses his lips when the man struggles up the stairs with both his arms full. Oikawa grabs the smaller case and follows him up.

The lady behind the desk gives them a weird look, and does nothing to assist except for a squeaky "Hello!"

Bob swipes the cap off his head with the same motion like before to wipe the sweat off his forehead, looking around.

"Will you wait for me? I'll only take these to my room, and we're ready to go." Oikawa sighs, taking out and sliding his documents across the desk.

"Of course, of course! They told me you'd need a ride for the whole day! I don't mind!" Bob says, already reaching for the suitcases. Oikawa doesn't waste his breath to tell him off this time. He turns to the squeaky receptionist who gives him a stack of papers to fill and sign, takes the keys, and joins Bob in the elevator.

He doesn't bother to unpack - he barely has enough time to admire the room, even though he allows himself to bask in the modest luxury offered to him - black and white furniture, modest kitchenette, a comfy-looking double bed. At least it's worth the money.

 Thankfully, Bob has the courtesy to excuse himself and head straight back down for a smoke, so Oikawa digs out a fresh shirt, sprays some deodorant on, and rummages through his other suitcases in search for his portable charger.

Ten minutes later, he stands victorious, battery in hand and apocalypse in the room. He can almost hear his mother's lamenting about the mess he's made as he locks the door behind him and hobbles towards the elevator.

This time, when Oikawa climbs in the taxi, he doesn't give Bob the chance to start his elderly rant again. He puts his headphones on to signalize that he has no inclinations towards further conversing, and leans back, satisfied that he avoided that bullet, his phone merrily charging in his pocket.  

On the downside, now he has to listen to Bob's annoying, off-key humming.

* * *

The rehab centre looks like any other tall building in the city, except the parking is a lot more inconvenient. Bob doesn't even try to find a place in the lot - he stops by the roadside, turns the emergency lights on, and turns around to face Oikawa."How long will you be there?"

Oikawa shoves the headphones off his ears, glancing at the clock. "A few hours perhaps."

Bob nods in thought. He clears his throat, jerking his head at the taximeter. "I'll go find some folks to drive around. I'll be back at five. Good?"

"Perfect!" Oikawa beams, and hurries up the stairs with a small wave.

The front lobby is almost hauntingly empty and quiet, and Oikawa actually does a double take on the address to make sure he's in the right place, since the front desk is also void of people. He stares at the map that covers the entire length and width of the right wall, trying to find the floor he's supposed to go with his recently acquired language skills, and finds out that he is either blind, or  he really is in the wrong building.

The person who was supposed to be behind the desk - who turns out to be a much more pleasant and patient woman than the one back at the hotel - materializes out of thin air, and is thankfully kind enough to listen and direct him to the right floor.

He calls the elevator, climbs in and loses himself by staring at his reflections in the dirty, print covered mirror. He sighs as he inspects his face - he's fine, but at the same time, not really and it shows - it's a subtle change in the shade of his skin, and the shine in his eyes. As if the mirror decided that he's not worthy of proper reflection. He tried to cover the circles under his eyes, and the blemishes of his tired, nerve-wracked skin, and it helps, but so long as nobody looks at him from up close. He hopes it will do the trick for a couple of more hours. He can't let Tendou's efforts go to waste.

 He hears a shout, and looks outside to see a man shoving his foot between the sliding door that opens up again with a displeased whirr. An Asian man with messy, curly hair and two paper take-away cups of coffee enters with a short bow, and a thick-accented 'excuse me.'

Oikawa hums in acknowledgement, but avoids staring at the mirror. He vacantly stares at his boots instead, but the ride up takes a while which makes his eyes wander. A glimmer catches his eye - a ring on the man's finger. At first, he only takes a short glance, and then another one, squinting to see better. It's simple, pretty silver band. He tilts his head and sees a feather --

"Oikawa."

Oikawa blinks, straightening up, looking up like a deer in headlights. The man is looking at him, head tilted, mouth open in hesitation, and a small frown on his brow.

"Yes?" Oikawa asks, also hesitating.

The man's frown transforms into a look of relief. "I almost thought I got it wrong." He says, and Oikawa finds out his voice is warmer than his looks.

"Do we... know each other?" Oikawa asks, his eyes dashing from the man's sharp eyes to the ring on his finger.

A feather; he knows the ring.

"Not officially - I'm Akaashi Keiji. Bokuto's fiancé." He says, fumbling to hold the two cups in one hand, offering his other for a shake.

Oikawa actually gasps, and hastily takes the hand, squeezing it while bowing.

"O-oh! Nice to finally meet you! Bokuto has told me a lot about you!" Oikawa says, and bites his tongue, because it's not really true. Bokuto was surprisingly secretive about his love life. Akaashi smiles like he knows.

"I've heard quiet a lot about you, too. And," he sighs sadly, "I've heard about the accident. I'm sorry."

Oikawa purses his lips, looking down at his shoes to hide his bitterness. "Well, at least now I have a chance to... start over?" He swallows the lump in his throat, looking away. Akaashi takes a breath after a short, pregnant pause, but Oikawa beats him to the word.

"Why are you here though?" It looks like the question caught Akaashi somewhat unprepared. Oikawa looks him up and down but finds nothing missing or out of shape. "I hope everything is alright - I remember Bokuto saying something about a honeymoon? Shouldn't you be in Europe?"

Akaashi sighs, exasperated, but fondly so. "Koutaro couldn't choose where exactly to spend our engagement honeymoon, until him spiking the pole during his last practice match decided for him. "

Oikawa cringes, hissing in pain empathy. "Is he alright?"

"Of course," Akaashi says, shaking his head with a little eye roll. It really looks like Bokuto getting hurt is something that happens pretty often. Oikawa tries to remember if Bokuto ever got distracted or hurt during the time they spent playing together, but he finds nothing. The look on his face must convey that, because Akaashi clarifies.

"He was jittery the entire day because he wanted to propose at the right moment," he says, fumbling to open the hole on the cup, taking a careful sip, "He was so distracted he missed almost every spike. He proposed in the hospital - after they gave him a nice dose of painkillers." Akaashi finishes with a shrug and a fond smile.

Oikawa feels his eyebrows climb up on his forehead, and his mouth stretch in a smile. "Must have been nice. Was he coherent?"

Akaashi tilts his head from side to side, "Kind of. I've got a video saved somewhere on my laptop."

"I'd love to see that!" Oikawa laughs. Akaashi beams back at him, and raises his elbows turning sideways to offer his pocket. Oikawa hesitates.  

"I'm being horribly rude - blame my spending abroad for that - but there are business cards in my wallet, help yourself to one."

Oikawa does as he's told, and when he finally fishes out the card out of Akaashi's surprisingly bulky and disorganized wallet, he carefully inspects it. It's simple, elegant, just like Akaashi, but it's not that what catches Oikawa's eye.

"A professional photographer?" He asks, surprised.

"And a model scout for one very prominent agency." Akaashi adds.

Oikawa tilts his head. "That's funny," he murmurs, looking up at Akaashi who has a very mischievous spark in his eye. "I have an interview scheduled with one today."

Akaashi chuckles, sipping his coffee with the most smuggest of looks. "I know," he says calmly, licking his lips.

"How?" Oikawa pockets the card, and looks straight at the man, ready to listen, but before Akaashi can explain, the elevator chimes in, ultimately ruining the chances of Oikawa getting any proper explanation. Akaashi steps out and to the side to clear the way for the people who wait to get inside. Oikawa hobbles to the front when he sees Akaashi peek in, face painted with urgency. 

"Tendou called me! I wanted to offer you a deal, but I couldn't get a hold of you or your agent!" he speaks hastily, totally disregarding the weird looks he's getting. "Call me!" He stresses, just before the door shuts close.

Oikawa lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and leans against the wall. People are staring at him but he is too far gone to care. His gets off on the fifteenth floor, and wanders through the hallway until he finds the right door. There's nobody else waiting there. He raps his knuckles on the wood, startling a little because of how loudly it echoes around. He takes a step back, realizing his hands are shaking.

When the door opens, and the smiley nurse calls him in, Oikawa bites the inside of his cheek, praying for the best

* * *

"Over here!"

Oikawa looks around, spotting Bob waving at his from next to his car, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flinging it away. He limps over, careful not to slip on the ice, and climbs in, closing the door with a little more force than necessary. Bob climbs in as well, but doesn't start the engine right away. Instead, he turns around, rests his elbow on the edge of the seat back, and seizes Oikawa up a few times.

"Bad news?" he asks quietly, but thankfully doesn't push for an answer.

Oikawa sighs, suppressing the urge to kick the seat, stubbornly staring at his hands. "Not bad, but not good either. Not what I wanted to hear." he adds, closing his eyes. He thinks about ditching the interview, but a message from his agent confirming that the funds have been transferred make him change his mind. Also, wishing him good luck, and telling him that he'll be waiting for him in the lounge petrifies the decision - he can't just ditch him there. Oikawa stares out of the window at the bare trees covered by snow, and steels himself for another exhausting session.

Maybe he should have been more patient with the scheduling.

* * *

Five consecutive matches - he feels like that. Like playing five overstretched, consecutive matches in a row, without a single call for time out.

Oikawa unlocks the door to his room, barely holding himself straight. He stumbles inside, catches himself on the bathroom doorframe, and sighs. He totally forgot what a mess he made. He shrugs off his jacket, toes off his shoes, leaving them in the middle of the crammed entry way, and heads straight towards the bed. He stares at it for a while first, then closes his eyes, inhales a lung full of air, and falls on top of it, hands spread wide out. He hears his cane tumble to the floor and roll off somewhere, but he doesn't bother to look where exactly it journey ended - he's probably going to regret that in the morning, but the urge to sleep is stronger.

A week of sleep sounds wonderful at the moment, but before that, he has to get rid of the damn prosthetic.

Oikawa rolls onto his back and reluctantly sits up, wincing in pain. He wiggles out of his pants, and slips the prosthesis off along with the liner, sighing when he finally feels fresh air hit his skin.  He carefully puts the limb on the floor and falls back on the covers, relieved of the discomfort that's been gradually getting worse during the day.

He crawls up to reach the pillows and buries his face into one of them, uncaring that he's smudging the white sheets with his makeup. He's had it on all day, and it feels like he's suffocating. Although, on the other hand, it all probably melted away during the try-out photo shoot. Oikawa cringes at the mere memory of it.

The company was pretty satisfied with his face, facial expressions and how he holds his body - there's no problem there - but they don't have a way to properly integrate him yet. They offered a small job - some whiskey company needs a label promotion and a pretty face to go with, and whereas these kind of shoots are given to elderly gentlemen, they wanted something different. Oikawa doesn't mind - he doesn't actually have to drink it to promote it.

He curls out into a ball, massaging the stump of his leg.

That's the better portion of the news. There's still the question of the rehab and prosthesis. He thought he could work around it, speed things up, but the doctor easily saw through him, quickly shutting down his request for bionics. But even that wasn't all that apocalyptical - the only problem is time.

Oikawa is impatient. And it complicates everything. He knows he can't do much if he's in pain, because he's snappy and useless like that. But the doctor offered a compromise: complete two stages - no pain while walking, no problems with the regular socket; have a proper rehab, and we will sign you up for a better prosthesis.

A bionic leg - his ultimate goal. He doesn't care that they are still in the development stage, it's the tail of it, and he's sure he can pull it through.

But before reaching that, he has to be able to walk without discomfort in a regular prosthesis, and while the pain has lessened, and he's gotten a better fitting socket, it is still there, and it becomes a tiny nightmare by the end of the day.

Oikawa feels sleep creeping up on him, but another thought pops into his mind. He searches for his phone, and groans in annoyance when he realizes he's left it in his jacket. He flips over on the bed so that his head is at its foot, and hangs his arms down over the edge. No, there's no way he can reach the entryway from here. He rolls from the bed, lands on his knee and reaches under the bed. Of course the cane is on the other side.

He gives up on that, he won't crawl around the room. Instead, he balances on his leg and hops to the entryway, almost tripping over a pile of shirts and belts he left on the ground. When he finally reaches his jacket, he pulls his phone out and rummages through the pockets until he finds Akaashi's business card.

He types in the number, dials, and waits for an answer.

* * *

Oikawa's twenty minutes late to the meeting, and he hates himself for it. He pays for the taxi, and limps towards the entrance with a look so intense, people jump out of his way. The bell softly chimes, announcing his arrival, and the moment he closes the door behind them -  careful not so slam it like the taxi door - he's enveloped in a comfortable, quiet murmur of the coffeehouse. Oikawa loosens his scarf and  tugs it off as he looks around, eyes jumping from one small, square table to another, until he finds the person he's been looking for.

Akaashi is sitting in the far left corner, staring in a bunch of papers as he absentmindedly strokes the edge of his coffee cup. Oikawa hobbles over, giving a tiny head nod to the waitress behind the bar when she greets him.

"Hello," Oikawa greets quietly, startling Akaashi from his reading. "I'm sorry I'm late - the traffic was-"

Akaashi waves his hand in dismissal, shaking his head.

"Hi, don't worry about that." He smiles, with his own little head bow, and gestures to the opposite seat. Oikawa hangs his jacket on the hanger behind him, and takes the place. The waitress comes to their table before Oikawa can even reach towards the drink list, which makes him stumble over his words as he quickly scans the types of coffee blends they offer. Oikawa sneaks a look at her as she bounces on her heels, pressing her lips into a thin line to suppress a smile. She doesn't seem too impatient. He settles on a double espresso with milk and extra sugar, thanks her with a smile, and sits back. He misses flirting with women - but it's not the same in a different language and a horrible accent. He notices Akaashi trying to hide his smile behind the cup.

"What?" Oikawa asks, glancing at the bar, catching the eyes of two other waitresses who quickly look away, giggling behind their hands.

"Nothing," Akaashi says, putting the cup down carefully. He doesn't drop the smile, though.  "How did your interviews go?" He asks quickly, changing the topic.

Oikawa thinks about as he takes in a lungfull of air, slowly exhaling.

"That bad?"

"No, it's ... not _that_ bad, but it could've been better. They offered me a small modelling job, though." Oikawa says, hoping Akaashi catches up.

He doesn't disappoint. "I've uh - had a few ideas," he says, pushing a thin folder towards him. "I want you to look through this, think about it and let me know if you're willing to do this." He props his elbows on the edge of the table, and joins them beneath his chin, watching Oikawa like a hawk.

Oikawa takes the folder, puts on his reading glasses and opens it without any hesitation. Akaashi clears his throat as Oikawa looks at the first page labelled 'portfolio' with Akaashi's loopy signature underneath it. The waitress comes with his order just as he flips the page over, and he frightens a little squeak out of her when he abruptly slams the portfolio close.

"Is everything alright, sir?" the poor spooked waitress asks, worriedly glancing from the fresh cup of coffee to Oikawa, and back. Oikawa bites his tongue, shoots a look at Akaashi, and assures the girl that _everything is just perfect, thank you for the coffee._

 He keeps his charm-charged smile on as she leaves, throwing a little wink in there as well. As soon as he crosses the line of the bar area, he looks back at Akaashi, who is calmly sipping his coffee.

"A little warning, perhaps?" Oikawa says, giving him a tight smile.

"Where would be the fun in that," Akaashi quips, eyes twinkling.

Bokuto is definitely a bad influence, Oikawa thinks. "Is the whole portfolio like that?"

Aakaashi shrugs, and then nods. Oikawa takes a deep breath, glances towards the waitresses and when he's sure none of them feel like checking on them, he re-opens the folder, and thumbs through it.

Oikawa has never really been shy, or easily embarrassed. There were times of course - when he was a child - he was quieter, more reserved, but never really shy. Only Iwaizumi could really make him blush in embarrassment - by actions more than blackmailing. He remembers the time Iwaizumi found a photo of his ten-year-old self standing under a cherry tree in a yellow dress, and a flower crown made of Dandelions on top of his messy, curly hair. When they were older, Iwaizumi thought it was an ace in his sleeve, the ultimate blackmailing material. He couldn't have been more wrong, and it frustrated him to no end.

Oikawa is not easily embarrassed - not by wearing his sister's dresses as a child, nor by nudity. But _this_. This definitely makes a blush creep onto his cheeks.

He closes the portfolio, picks up his cup, and takes a calming sip.

"Alright, tell me what your idea is."

Akaashi's smile widens. "Perfect."

* * *

Iwaizumi stares at the passersby though the logo-covered window, sighing into his fist. His phone is on the table, motionless as usual, and his hand is itching towards it. He looks away from the mass of people who pass the street, and sweeps the room with his eyes, stopping on the flat screen suspended on the opposite wall. Someone at the bar keeps changing the channels, which makes Iwaizumi want to slam their head against the counter.

A waiter blocks his view of the bar, and Iwaizumi leans back in his seat, making room on the table for his coffee. He thanks him, drains the water on the plate, and goes back to staring out of the window, leisurely stirring the steaming beverage.

The person at the bar finally settles on watching sports, so Iwaizumi takes a celebratory sip and skims through the quick news that flash on the bottom. It's half past six, and the hospital is just across the street, so he has plenty of time to enjoy his cup.

The phone vibrates, announcing a message, and the corner of Iwaizumi's mouth quirks up.

It's from Makki: _'Watching TV? Ushiwaka is gonna be on the sports news'_

Iwaizumi reads the message twice and whips up to look at the screen so fast he almost feels a whiplash.

There is a report about the volleyball league, a schedule of the March games, and then a shot on the inside of a gym with the Japanese national team stretching and practicing inside. Iwaizumi holds his breath, looking for a sign of Oikawa somewhere in the background but he finds nothing. The shot changes to a set of photos, first of Bokuto - the former ace player, who had to drop off the season due to an injury he sustained in a January, and then to Ushijima who unexpectedly dropped an announcement about re-joining the team. Iwaizumi is ready to scoff at how surprisingly good life's been treating him, until they show him walking by the coach's side, which actually makes Iwaizumi drop his jaw.

Ushijima looks like he's aged _ten years_ in barely half a year.

_He's greying,_ Iwaizumi mentally comments, totally in awe. And he's greying a _lot_. To be honest, the lightning is making it much worse, and his stubble is not doing him much favour either, but he looks _so tired._

The shot disappears, and the report moves to baseball. That's when it really sinks in.

He doesn't know how long he's gaping at nothing until his phone chimes. It's Makki again.

_'He looks..... drained I almost didn't recognize him'_

_'Like shit the word you were looking for is shit,'_ Iwaizumi types back, slams the phone down and drains the coffee. He rubs his eyes, inhaling three long, calming breaths before answering the next message.

_'Is he the only substituting player?'_

Iwaizumi doesn't reply this one. Makki saw it with his own eyes, and with the actual commentary instead of a muted murmur of a coffee shop.

Iwaizumi's finger itches to write something, _anything_ , but he finds no words.

He's been calling  Auntie Oikawa every month to make sure everything is alright, asking about how everyone's doing, how _he_ is doing, and getting back shortened updates consisting of _'he's fine's, he's coping's'_ , but he's never once been told _'he's asking about you.'_

Stubbornness was what held Iwaizumi's tongue from asking for Oikawa's number, because he hoped that Oikawa would reach out, just like he always did, and Iwaizumi would be there for him. But Oikawa took a different path, and Iwaizumi thought the initial refusal of meeting his family was just a phase, something Oikawa would crawl through. He's always been dependable on people, a social butterfly, and always the centre of attention.

But the more time passed, the less Iwaizumi's heard about him, and the more infrequent the calls to Auntie Oikawa have become.

He doesn't think about him every day, but when his name echoes in his mind on a lonely evening, it leaves a very bitter trace. The period of time from hearing Oikawa's voice last until this moment feels like a small eternity.

Iwaizumi has become a doctor - he's about to finish his paediatric residency in a year -  he knows how people cope with things, and he knows that coping with an amputation is not easy at all, but seeing Ushijima was a clear tell-tale of _not coping._

If Ushijima looks like this, Iwaizumi feels genuinely worried about what state Oikawa is in.

A spark of anger suddenly flares within him, and a voice in his head asks _just why did Ushijima leave him?_ But Iwaizumi knows - hopes - Ushijima is not that kind of man, and he knows Oikawa well enough to fuel the hope and silence that voice, because Oikawa is stubborn, too.

"Would you like anything else?" a voice suddenly startles him out of his thoughts.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, smiling at the waiter. "That'd be all, thank you."

He follows the waiter to the bar to pay so he can look closely at the news, but the report has long since moved onto other topics. He buttons up his coat with a sigh, and goes to work.

* * *

Iwaizumi's routine hits a new boring low. Every morning before his shift, he sits in the coffee shop, watches the news with hope of seeing news about either Oikawa or the Japanese national team. He starts buying more magazines than ever to keep his overview of the world events during his break, and calls Auntie Oikawa at least once a week. The work at the hospital is never sparse, but even the occasional night shifts he volunteered to take become a little boring.

He contemplates buying a pet - a cat or a dog - he doesn't really care, because off days are a little lonely, but he works eight to twelve hours a day and he doesn't have the heart to leave a pet alone at home for so long. He tries going out more, but that doesn't work out either. The one nurse that seemed to be pretty interested in him a couple of months back got fired because apparently she was already dating the boss, having an affair with a paramedic from the night shift, _and_ hitting on Iwaizumi at the same time. He feels like he dodged a pretty nasty bullet by declining the first date.

He hangs out with Hanamaki and Matsukawa from time to time, but their schedules are difficult to align with his, and meeting once in a month is not enough to recharge Iwaizumi's social meter.

The bitterness over Oikawa becomes a dull echo that comes back once in awhile, but the intensity is not as bad as it was before. He is still saddened about the cut-off, but at least he knows Oikawa is doing better and better based on what Auntie tells him.

When March rolls by and the first spring volleyball tournaments being, Iwaizumi makes a point to have an access to news about it at all times. He records every match when he's at work, and watches it every evening with a cold bottle of beer, scrutinizing Ushijima's every game and interview. Some reporters are like wasps, asking uncomfortable questions - especially about Ushijima's relationship with Oikawa, which they just _love_ to prod at, but he has a wonderful way of subtly telling them to fuck off by a lengthy, unimpressed stare and a 'no comment' that leaves no room for arguments. 

It seems like he came to an internal peace, too,  and Iwaizumi finds out he's relieved. Ushijima doesn't try to cover the gray strands  - Iwaizumi silently admits to himself that, somehow, they really suit him - but he thankfully got rid of the atrocious stubble.

The work becomes a little more hectic due to an unexpected outbreak of flu, and Iwaizumi pushes himself to take in as many children as possible, mentally shaking his head at the fact that they are less of a problem than their obnoxious mothers. But he deals with that - he has done the job for more than three years after all. Every evening, he goes to the lounge for a slim cig - a habit he's developed only recently, and enjoys the humming of the vending machines.

There are magazines spread all over the table, each opened on a random page and left forgotten - an evidence of a break coming to an end, or possibly, an unexpected call to work. One of them catches his eye. It looks like a fashion magazine, and it's upside down, opened on a full page ad. Iwaizumi stares at it, slumped on the couch, head tilted, and he wonders just what is it that makes him unable to look away.

He blinks, straightens up and rubs his eyes, and looks at it again and his heart skips a beat, because _holy shit_ \- he recognizes that face.

Iwaizumi throws himself at the table, grabs it, turns it over, and gapes - it's Oikawa. In a classy suit, hat and leather gloves, sitting on a red, velvet armchair, one hand clutching a gold-topped cane between his widespread legs, the other a glass of whiskey, looking like a some hedonist godfather out of a gothic novel. Iwaizumi looks at the front cover - it's some western magazine. There's nothing explicitly improper about that picture, but Oikawa's face makes Iwaizumi's ears go red. He's looking straight at the camera, mouth parted as he presses the amber filled glass against the bottom lip. 

Iwaizumi takes a quick look around, tears the page out, folds it and slips it into his back pocket. He goes back to paperwork, and finds out he can't concentrate at all.

* * *

Three more weeks pass, the volleyball matches end, and the whiskey add slips off Iwaizumi's mind, and doesn't re-surface until one late evening, when he's comfortably sunken in his couch watching a Punishment Game, with a beer bottle in hand, a bowl of popcorn on his belly, and his  feet propped up on his coffee table. Matsukawa sends him a message containing a long webpage link and a suspicious _'scroll down'_. Iwaizumi squints at it in suspicion but opens it anyway, and by the time the first picture loads, he knows he's in for another miniscule heart attack. He doesn't scroll down, though. He goes to messages, and sends one to Matsukawa in return.

_'Why are they naked'_

A reply comes back almost immediately. _'Don´t ask me just scroll you should be thankful I'm sending you that'_

_'Why how did you even find it? I'm not gonna scroll'_ He replies, even though he eyes the messages with a little unease.

_'Don't ask and scroll go take a hot shower afterwards ;) you're welcome'_

Iwaizumi makes a face. _'If you think I'm gonna masturbate over a nude picture of my friend you're very mistaken'_

_'"friend" hoho such a liar'_ A second message arrives shortly after, making Iwaizumi make up his mind. _'Go and scroll....honestly'_

Iwaizumi sighs, and returns to the webpage. He slowly scrolls through naked pictures of sportsmen and women, both able-bodied and disabled, with plentifully oiled bodies, in various, thankfully non-revealing, poses somehow connected to the sport they possibly do, dreading the pose he finds Oikawa in.

However, none of those images that he had imagined prepared him for Oikawa's picture. He pauses with his finger hovering over the screen, momentarily closing his eyes to pray. Oikawa's photographed staring straight at the camera, with a look that once upon a time promised whoever would go after his served ball bruised forearms, dribbling a volleyball that is frozen right in front of his privates.

It doesn't make Iwaizumi run to the bathroom though. Maybe it would, some time back, before the accident, but even though naked and oiled Oikawa looks more than tempting, the only thing that Iwaizumi can keep his focus on is the shiny, black prosthetic socket that begins in the middle of Oikawa's right thigh.  

It's the first time he sees it, and he feels like crying. He looks back at Oikawa's face, trying to find any trace of something other than confidence and challenge, but he finds nothing, and it actually makes him tear up. He was right about Oikawa - he's headstrong, and proud, and absolutely amazing, and Iwaizumi remembers the time he told him he's a partner he can boast about, because he really can.  

A big bubble of pride swells in his chest as he looks at the picture, and he knows he will be back to the bitter mode by tomorrow because Oikawa could have at least _let him know he was fine_ , but Iwaizumi forgives him for now. He catches himself fondly smiling, and suddenly, the bubble bursts, and the moment is over - Iwaizumi realizes he's been staring at a very _naked_ Oikawa for longer than what could be considered acceptable in terms of admiring human physique, and looks away with a blush because Oikawa has not been slacking off.

"Gosh," Iwaizumi sighs, taking one last peek, "You're still a hot mess."

A message interrupts him - Matsukawa again.

_'Are you crying or masturbating?'_

Iwaizumi shakes his head as he punches in his reply. _'Why am I friends with you?'_

_'Because you love me but not like Oikawa tho that would be gross thank you so crying then'_ and then _'pls get laid'_

Iwaizumi throws the phone away in disgust, and turns back to watch the TV. The Punishment Game is suddenly less funny than it was a few minutes ago, but he stubbornly keeps his eyes on the screen, stuffing his face full of salty popcorn that starts burning through the edges of his tongue. It doesn't take long for his eyes to start slipping towards the discarded phone. He thinks about the cute adulterer nurse, and about the last time he got properly laid, and comes to the conclusion that he is a horrible, _horrible_ human being.

He turns the TV off, downs the beer in one go, and goes to take a very lengthy shower.

* * *

Who would have thought, that such a small thing as seeing Oikawa doing fine in life would be the balm for Iwaizumi's soul that clings to him for several weeks despite how hectic the summer season at the hospital becomes. He was a little bit agitated at first, because being forgotten by your once best friend - and a potential lover - is nothing pleasant, but even that slips off his mind after a while. He goes on with life - treats children from morning until afternoon, takes extra night shifts as a paramedic, because he appreciates every bit of experience he can get, even though Makki and Mattsun keep reminding him that he's working his way into his early grave, and that they're very disappointed over how big of a workaholic he's become.

They make him take a week off by the beginning of the hottest summer period, and they all agree to spend that week in a cabin in the mountains, where they get completely shitfaced for three days and then spend the other two trying to survive the hangover. Makki ends up with a cold because skinny dipping at four in the morning probably wasn't the brightest idea they've ever had, but it's nothing he couldn't handle with a bunch of blankets and roasted marshmallows.

The way back to the city is quiet, unusually so, but Iwaizumi doesn't mind. It's the last bit of quiet he can enjoy before throwing himself back at work. He glances at the back seats across which Makki is sprawled, softly snoring in a cocoon of blankets, and snorts to himself - he's sleeping with his mouth wide open.

"Is he going to be alright?" Iwaizumi asks, and Matsukawa stops drumming his fingers on the wheel.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Matsukawa quips quietly, kind of catching Iwaizumi off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said. Why do you think we took you out?" Matsukawa continues, throwing Iwaizumi a look. "You were not the workaholic one of our group, remember?"

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue - he knows where this debate is going and he's not in the mood to discuss it. "I was not overworking myself."

"All I'm saying is that while it's very altruistic of you to care so much about the poor sick people, you, of all people, should know how important it is to take breaks."

"I... am aware, thank you for your concern," Iwaizumi says through clenched teeth.

"I'm going to pretend it was meant genuinely, and say: you're welcome."

He drops his arm from the window, and stares a hole at the side of Matsukawa's head. "Where is this conversation supposed to go? Because I think it took a very bad turn somewhere along the way." Iwaizumi asks, shaking his head. Deep down he appreciates the concern, but this is not the conversation he wanted to have at the end of a very pleasant vacation.

"We've been worried about you - you haven't dated anyone since Oikawa kind of... left, and I know you had some lovey-dovey promise at some point, but I'm sure it was nowhere between the lines of: I'll be forever faithful to you, my never-boyfriend. I mean, I'm sure Oikawa has been dating someone at some point of his absence." Matsukawa makes a vague gesture with his hand and shrugs. Iwaizumi looks over at him with a confused frown.

"Of course he's been dating. He's been with Ushiwaka for almost half a year, but what does that have to do with me?"

"Yeah, ugh - yes," Matsukawa looks back at him about three times, stumbling over his words. "I mean - what?" He seems pretty flabbergasted, and torn between staring at Iwaizumi and the road. "He's been dating Ushiwaka? How do you--?"

"He called me when they were dating - didn't I tell you?"

"No?" Matsukawa squeaks, still looking kind of stunned. He recovers from it, however, and even though Iwaizumi can see the cogs in his head turning, trying to digest the news, he leaves it at that. "Whatever, I - can't fucking believe it, but whatever. The point is - you haven't been with anyone, and we're worried. We don't want you to end up like a hermit. I thought you're down because you've been like a first aid band for Oikawa's mom, so I thought if I showed you that Oikawa's been doing good, you would be at peace and try to find someone to hang out with, maybe even get some, which you've been neglecting horribly."

"What makes you think I haven't been getting some?" Iwaizumi shoots back indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Matsukawa gives him a look that speaks for itself, and makes him yield. "Alright, even if my sex life was any of your damn concern, what gives you the right to stick your nose in it since you yourself haven't been with anyone ever since.... forever?"

"Yeah," Hanamaki speaks from the back seat, "About that."

Iwaizumi turns around with a question on the tip of his tongue, but his voice freezes in his throat as Makki returns his look with pursed lips and a little sniffle. Iwaizumi takes a breath, freezes again and then it's Matsukawa who sets him right.

"We... kind of hooked up." A pause. "Last year."

Iwaizumi slowly sits right again, closes his gaping mouth and stares out of the window.

"Surprise," Hanamaki quietly sing-songs, and blows his nose.

Matsukawa scrunches his face, as if he expects Iwaizumi to hit him and tries to control the incoming storm. "Take a breath, stay calm-"

"What the fuck?!"

* * *

Iwaizumi makes sure to have his payback for not being told about the recent love development on the Matsukawa-Hanamaki front, and he has it without an ounce of regret.

He makes a point of to buy three boxes of cream puffs on Friday after work, de-freezes them the next day and sends Hanamaki photos of him stuffing his mouth , which he knows Hanamaki considers the worst sin a man can commit. The seventeen messages of incoherent screaming is a reward enough.

His tactic with Matsukawa is different - mainly because he knows Matsukawa doesn't have such petty weaknesses as Makki. Although, Iwaizumi has a perfect way to drive Matsukawa mental over a longer period of time.

No replies. At all. None. And it works like a charm!

Iwaizumi bites into his cream puff, scrolling on his phone, and while his only reply to Makki's outraged treats is just another exaggerated selfie of puff eating, Matsun is really trying to sound nonchalant.

He doesn't sound so nonchalant about it a week later, when he starts sending him mails on his work email address to check if he was alright and still alive.

The only reassurance he received was a provocative cream puff-eating selfie through Hanamaki.

But Iwaizumi is a forgiving guy, and decides to give in and stop torturing those two a month later when his schedule starts getting hectic and asks them for a night out after a long month of flu outbreaks.

When the Christmas decorations start appearing all around him, Iwaizumi realizes it's the highest time to start thinking about New Year's homecoming presents, and planning his holidays. He calls Makki about some tips - he's the best one when it comes to buying gifts - and on the nearest weekend, he sets out downtown to do some shopping.

The first couple of hours turns into an intensive window shopping, because while having a list, Iwaizumi still contemplates buying other things, and even though many wouldn't guess it, Iwaizumi is pretty damn indecisive. He reads the list Makki proposed over and over again, hoping that his shopping won't turn into buying everything in the last shop at the end of the day like it usually does. Iwaizumi tries to make a mental map, putting every item on the list in a logical and most economical order so he doesn't have to walk up and down like an idiot, and after checking out every little hole-in-the-wall on the street, he enters the shopping centre.

Three hours later, Iwaizumi is pretty satisfied with dealing with half of the list, including almost an hour long tutorial for irons - but what a good son wouldn't do to please his mother?

He feels the need of a second dose of caffeine kick in, so he searches for a place that is not as overfilled as the cafe he's currently standing in front, and curses his lack of extra arms. He readjusts the grip on the overfilled shopping bags, and strides down the street, spotting a small coffee house tucked away in the corner.

The place is pretty busy but not as full as the previous one, so after Iwaizumi wins the fight against the automatically closing door, he dumps the bags under the corner table, and sinks down in the seat, appreciating the interior, as well as the nice view of the whole room. It becomes very clear after a while that unless he goes to the bar to order, he's not going to get anything, so he grabs his wallet, and waits there until one of the girls acknowledge his presence. She asks him to wait a second in her hurry, and Iwaizumi just waves his hand in an 'alright' gesture and looks over the newspapers spread over the counter, searching for one with the most recent date.

He flips over a few pages, finally orders the coffee and returns to his seat, the recent news rolled under his arm.

The first sip feels like heaven, and Iwaizumi is glad he can finally enjoy some rest. He flips through the newspaper, skimming the headlines, nothing really catching his eye, until he makes the grave mistake of taking a sip while turning the page.

It takes exactly a second for his mind to comprehend what his eyes are seeing, but he is one second too late to swallow and _then_ breathe in, which results in him frightening the hell out of the staff and other customers as he almost chokes to death.

After apologising, and assuring everyone that he doesn't need the ambulance the waitress is about to dial, Iwaizumi kindly asks for a bunch of tissues to wipe his coffee-stained dress shirt. He motionlessly sits in on the chair, slowly breathing through the shock of almost losing his life and waiting until people stop sneaking awkward glances at him, before he slowly re-opens the newspaper on the article that made his life flash before his eyes.

Of course it's Oikawa. And _of course he had to be naked -_ almost naked, but the extra short, definitely not volleyball shorts and the peeking waistband of some expensive designer underwear _does not count_ in this case. Iwaizumi swallows the lump in his throat that still has some traces of coffee in it, and forces his eyes to look away from the almost complete double-page spread of Oikawa sprawled on the floor with a volleyball to read the barely noticeable article.

'Japanese Ex-Volleyball Representative Raises From the Ashes' it says, and Iwaizumi can't really believe his eyes again. Allegedly, Oikawa has given up on the volleyball career for good - Iwaizumi is not surprised, but he is a little bit sad - and decided to, quote: 'try his luck with modelling.' It is mentioned that Oikawa has been staying in America for the past year, and invested a generous amount of money to the research and development of myoelectric prosthetics, and was seen at multiple promotional campaigns as a speaker on behalf of the company that provided his prosthetics. There is a small comment about his past love life, but they thankfully didn't include Ushijima's name this time. It seems like Oikawa has the same answer as him on this matter, but Iwaizumi is still bitter about the reporters trying to dig out dirt on him.

Next section reports Oikawa's success in modelling, includes a bit of the whiskey commercial Iwaizumi saw a while back, the naked photo for the American sports website, and hints at possible contracts signed with a big modelling company which Oikawa refuses to share.

Iwaizumi can vividly picture Oikawa's face as he's denying all the juicy information about his career to the reporter, imagining him winking at him or her, sticking his tongue out or some dumb thing he used to do, and thinks about how much of a change might he have gone through. He hopes not too much.

The article continues on the next page, of course, accompanied by other, photos of him - Iwaizumi asks for a cup of water before he can read more. Oikawa promoting some futuristic, self-breathing sportswear - which hugs his muscles _just right_ \- is really not helping Iwaizumi with the concentration.

The second half of the article reveals that Oikawa plans to return to his homeland the next spring, and that's when Iwaizumi stops reading. Oikawa's mother comes to his mind, and he wonders if Oikawa has at least bothered to tell her that, or if he left it to her to figure it out herself. Iwaizumi wants to feel happy - he really does - but the agitation is winning again.

He gathers his things, checks the name of the newspaper so he can buy it on his way home, and goes shopping again.

Somehow, he really wants to tear down the chain lights from every tree he passes. He really, _really_ wants it to be spring already - so he can find the idiot and punch him in his pretty face.

* * *

Iwaizumi comes home to his lonely flat at ten in the evening, and can neither feel his legs, or arms, and he absolutely doesn't bother to move the bags away from his doorstep. He makes a bee line to the couch and falls down on it, completely exhausted.

He feels pretty accomplished, though. He has managed to buy all the presents he wanted - which means no shopping for the rest of the year, or so he hopes. The idea of just ordering food right to his doorstep sounds very attractive suddenly. Iwaizumi doesn't even know how, but he falls asleep, and when he jerks awake an hour later to the generic ringing of his phone, he groans and fishes it out of his pocket, accepting the call and not even checking who it is.

"'ello," he greets, clearing his throat.

"Hajime! He said he's coming back!" Mrs Oikawa sobs into the speaker, immediately putting Iwaizumi in the state of alert.

"He - he what?" he really feels slow today. "He's--" it finally clicks, and Iwaizumi relaxes, falling back onto the couch with a tired sigh. "He did, didn't he?" he asks with a fond smile as he rubs the sleep away from his eyes.

"He called today! He sounded so happy, Hajime! He asked about you!"

Iwaizumi's mind freezes, just like his smile. Auntie Oikawa continues without missing a beat.

"He was asking about how you were doing, and I think he was a little bit upset about something, but he wanted to know where you live now - I think he wants to surprise you! Oh, my! I probably shouldn't have said that, but it's still going to be surprise because he didn't tell me when he is coming back! I hope it's on New Years! It's been so long since we got to spend it together! Oh, Hajime I'm so happy I could cry!"

Iwaizumi smiles, and doesn't tell her she's already crying. He assures her that it's okay she told him and that he's happy with her, and bites his lip as he hangs up. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, and then looks towards the pile of gifts by the door.

He pads through the dark apartment, and shuffles through it picking up a small package with a cyan bow. It feels heavy in his hand. It's a Christmas gift - but his family doesn't celebrate Christmas. He walks towards his desk with conflicted feelings, silently murmuring what kind of idiot he really is. The last drawer on the left - the only one not filled with paperwork, is the one that always fight with him when he wants to open it, because it's really just once a year he does it. He slumps down on the chair with a heavy sigh, turning the little wrapped package in his hands until he finally opens the drawer and puts the gift in there, on top of the other little wrapped packages with cyan bows.

 Maybe he'll finally have a chance to empty it next year.

He really hopes he will.

* * *

Christmas period rolls by like it usually does - with Iwaizumi holing himself up in his office for fourty-two hours to avoid the lovey-dovey couples that spend the evening and night walking hand in hand all over the place, celebrating the holiday that tastes most bitterly on his tongue, and has his own romantic date with the Mount Fuji of paperwork he accumulated over the past week.

It's not a nice compensation for how he used to spend his 'Christmas Eve' during high school and uni, but at least it takes off his mind off useless reminiscing. He just almost makes it - the only hitch is a mail from his mother, which appears in his inbox shortly before leaving the work in the evening on twenty-sixth. It's a photo of a wonderfully decorated shortcake, with huge sugar coated strawberries and blueberries, and white-as-snow whipped cream that makes Iwaizumi groan in want.

Apparently, his and Oikawa's mom have been hanging out the whole day, having a cook-off at the Oikawa household.

_'Remember when you and Tooru used to eat shortcakes together?'_ The message says, and Iwaizumi swears so loudly and so rudely, the colleague from the office next door actually comes to check up on him.

_Yes_ , Iwaizumi remembers that, but not for the same reason as she or Mrs Oikawa do. The memory - even though a later one, is the reason why he refuses to acknowledge the words Christmas and denial. Christmas mainly, but Makki and Mattsun don't let him forget about his apparent _'denial'._ Even though, he is _not_ in denial. He never denied having feelings to Oikawa, but those feelings are buried somewhere under all the bitterness, sadness, and most recently, anger - even though that might be aimed at more people than Oikawa.

Iwaizumi doesn't really _hate_ Christmas per se, but the older he gets, the more jabs about being single and reminders of the cute childhood he spent with Oikawa he gets.  It's frustration, really, what he tries to avoid, but he forgets to block his calls and emails every year.

Mrs Oikawa sends him a message herself, inviting him to stop by on New Year´s Day, and nailing the last figurative nail on the coffin that is Iwaizumi's concentration with a _'I hope Tooru will be here with us.'_

Iwaizumi slams his laptop close, grabs the pile of almost finished paperwork from his desk, puts it in the top drawer and slams it close with more force than necessary.

He knows she means well. They both do. But, dear Gods, he does want to avoid the topic. He is about to go to the lounge for a cup of coffee, but his desk phone stops him in his tracks - it's his boss. He wants Iwaizumi to hold presentations in a few university hospitals at the beginning of summer semester.

Well, at least that makes him take his mind off Oikawa for a while.

He goes back to his desk, and starts scraping up some information for the presentation.  

Makki and Mattsun call him the next day and ask, not-so-subtly, how he was coping - a question which he answers with a pointed hint at ' _it's none of your fucking business, let it finally go, please',_ but they are kind enough to throw useless, but appreciated, ideas at him when he tells them that he's supposed to play a lecturer in Tokyo and Kyoto in February, and in the end, he manages to slap something meaningful together that his boss actually likes, and accepts the fact that he can't worm his way out of the presentation even if a meteor was about to hit the place.

New Year holidays are short and kind of awkward - at least in the Oikawa household, because their son does not, in fact, turn up; and the agitation is itching at Iwaizumi's mind once again - though, this time, he kind of numbly endures. It's not like he had high hopes anyway.

He is a little bit more conscious about the little gift with a cyan bow than he would usually be however. It feels even heavier in his hand when he, once again, puts it back in the bottom drawer.

Iwaizumi forgets about the New Year's disappointment pretty fast. The work is unforgiving, the extra hours pile up on him, headaches become almost a daily occurrence, but he stubbornly endures, telling himself that while there is coffee, he can deal with anything.

He dreads the presentations with every day that passes but in the end, it's not as bad as he thought. The kids - he realises he refers to twenty-one-year-olds as 'kids' and immediately feels old - soak up the information like sponges, and flood him with surprisingly easy questions about the job that ease him into a complete relaxation. The presentation ends with a pretty open discussion and a round of applause, and Iwaizumi leaves with a feeling that he could totally pull another one like that. He sends a quick message to Matsukawa, informing him that it went pretty well, and hurries off to the train station to get to his next stop - Kyoto.

He checks the time again, and sets an alarm so he doesn't miss his stop, and uses the three and something hours to catch some sleep.

The Kyoto University Hospital is unusually busy, even for Japanese standards, and Iwaizumi notices a distinct abundance of shiny, black cars at which he mentally scoffs.

He doesn't pay too much attention to it however, but he does feel a little out of place when he enters the lounge, and finds himself in a crowd of businessmen in black suits and ladies in formal dresses. Before he can get lost in thoughts concerning why could the place be possibly so crowded, the professor who's in charge of showing Iwaizumi around catches him by his shoulder, effectively startling the hell out of him.

He's showed into a presentation room that is already filled with students and left to fend for himself. Even before starting, Iwaizumi feels the mood is completely different from his first presentation. The students are fidgety and less attentive, but they politely listen even though the conversation at the end of Iwaizumi's lecture is much shorter than the one in Tokyo. Iwaizumi thinks it may be because it's so late - it's almost six in the evening when he finishes - and doesn't think much about it. Once the majority of the student body clears out of the room, the professor approaches him, seeming quite apologetic.

"I'm sorry," he says, adjusting his tie nervously, "they put you in the worst possible block."

"It's really alright," Iwaizumi interrupts, stuffing the papers into his suitcase. "It's really okay, I understand. I haven't been too attentive at this hour either."

The professor laughs and shakes his head. "No, no, it's not that. We're hosting a conference for sponsors, because they're trying to open a rehabilitation centre here."

"Oh?" Iwaizumi hums, straightening his collar after putting on his coat. "So that's why there's so much... people here."

"Rich people, yes." The professor comments without any regrets. "Their big, expensive cars are blocking a lot of places. The students are not the only ones displeased with that."

Iwaizumi grins - he's glad for checking the room for any eavesdroppers.

"But I guess I should not be complaining too much - they are gonna put a lot of money into this hospital after tonight."

"You sound pretty sure about that." Iwaizumi comments, matching the stride with the man as they walk down the corridor. The professor strokes his white moustache, looking at the not-so-little crowd gathered in the middle of the foyer.

"Well you know. I've had the pleasure to talk to one of the speakers that present tonight," he gestures to the monitors hooked up on the wall that everyone is staring at, "He's very... persuasive. See for yourself! The hall is completely filled."

Iwaizumi glances up, craning his neck a little - why are all these kids so tall - and watches a bearded, fourty-something bald man slowly pace over the podium, gesturing to the black, very advanced-looking prosthetic arm, which Iwaizumi can't take his eyes off. He strains his ears to catch a bit of the guy's monologue, catching something in the lines of 'just like my friend here,' and then the camera cuts to the other guest on the podium, who slowly walks towards the man, elegant and cocksure, fitting right into the company of rich people despite being dressed in a tight black sports shirt and shorts. He stops, turns, welcoming the crowd with a bright smile and a small wave, his shiny white-and-silver, engraved prosthetic leg glistening in the spotlight. Iwaizumi feels his jaw literally drop to the ground in a mute gasp, because it's Oikawa - there, in person, separated from Iwaizumi by a single door.

The professor is talking but in that moment, Iwaizumi's ears exist only to assure him that yes, it is indeed Oikawa. He grabs the professor by his shoulder, startling him into silence as he steadies himself on his feet.

"Is everything alright? You seem a little pale."

"I'm fine," he hears himself say. He looks up at the screen again, and watches how Oikawa enchants the crowd with his speech.

He stands firmly on the podium, long legs locked and hands joined at fingertips, eyeing his audience with a glint in his eye, and Iwaizumi finally has the chance to hear the part of his story which was never published. A lot of things start to make sense.

"Nigel is absolutely right - it's never easy. He had a choice, you see, that was something I was not given, and you might think it's still the same - they still take your limb away.  It's not quite the same. It's one thing to prepare yourself mentally for what is to come, and other to wake up and think that you've survived the worst, only to have the worst to catch you unprepared. What happened to me was an accident - unfortunate, unavoidable, and I absolutely do not blame the man behind the wheel for it. He got out with a couple of scrapes and a concussion. I wasn't so lucky, and when I woke up, my first thought was that I pulled through! I made it! But when I wanted to stand up, I realized that something is missing.

They took my leg while I was unconscious, I had no say in it, no knowledge of it." He shrugs, wetting his lips. "Of course it changed my whole life. Unlike my friend here who had a worse luck than me, and struggled to do even the most simple of daily tasks properly, my problem was less severe but I ended up the same as him."

Oikawa walks to the left side podium, natural and unwavering. He touches a finger to his temple, silent. It has more impact than words.

"My problem was in my head. Maybe if I was offered a different treatment, or if it had happened here and not thousands of kilometres away from my home, many things would have turned out differently. I was in pain, and I was in pain for so long I stopped thinking straight. Every amputee knows how bad phantom limb pain or resident limb pain is, and I had problems with my leg before. Maybe the doctors screwed up, maybe it was just all my imagination," he shrugs again, "I had lost sight of things." He says sadly, looking around the room with a different kind of glint in his eye.

"Unintentionally. I was so blinded by pain and bitterness, I didn't notice how much pills I took. But I was lucky I had somebody watching over me - and no, it was not a guardian angel. It was the person I hurt most. Thanks to them, I'm able to stand here today. "

Iwaizumi feels his heart skip a beat. He covers his mouth with his hand, and tries to blink away the unshed tears. He bites his lip so hard he tastes blood.

_He didn't know..._

The professor shuffles next to him, a little panicked. "Sir, are you sure you're alright?" Iwaizumi manages a shaky nod, but doesn't take his eyes off the screen.

 Oikawa gestures to the bearded man with prosthetic arm - they smile at each other in empathy, and then turn back to the audience. "The most difficult thing is your loved ones. You hate yourself more for taking your frustration out on your family and friends than you hate yourself for being useless. I isolated myself from everyone. I refused to see my mother, I refused to go back because I was afraid what I would look in the eyes of them. I didn't want their pity, I was selfish and distant, and it hurt to see how my disability affected the person I loved."   

"Some of you might know me from the TV - I was in the first volleyball league, representing Japan, climbing the ladder of success that the sponsors and scouts have provided for me ever since they noticed me back in high school, and then the one thing I was really good at was ripped away from me." He makes a vague, nonchalant gesture. "You can't play volleyball with a prosthesis. Not in the regular league - it's just not the same. But then," he stands up straighter, prouder, and gestures to the man's arm, and then his own leg. "I learnt about this. A bionic prosthesis. Not cheap thing ,mind you, and not the easiest to get. This, along with the help of a really dedicated rehabilitation program, is what really saves lives."

The bearded man - Nigel - steps closer to him, presenting his arm.

"This stops people from looking at us with pity, as if we're weaker or lesser than them. This makes us complete again, and this is what we all deserve. You're here because you are indecisive, you still don't know if it's worth the invested money. All I'm going to say is: think about all those who're not here with us now. Because they could have been. Think about how many lives you can make better."

He takes a short bow, almost in sync with the other man, and they walk off the podium accompanied by an applause, shoulders brushing. Even the people in the hallway are clapping.

Iwaizumi takes a shaky breath, and looks for the closest bench to sit on. He's not crying - the urge is there, but he manages to hold the tears back. The professor is uselessly skidding around him - Iwaizumi can't even hear what he's saying, but he doesn't have the heart, or the strength, to tell him off.

He just is. There, on the bench, as the people from the conference room fill the hallway, quietly chattering away. It suddenly feels too crowded - Iwaizumi looks to the door in weak hope.

"Is there... a quieter place?" He asks, and the professor leads him to a quiet, empty office, offering him a glass of water.

Iwaizumi knows Oikawa would be held up for an interview or something, so the chances of meeting him today are quite small, but he feels a little light headed. The professor is mercifully quiet, so Iwaizumi has the luxury to sort out his thoughts. He sniffs, violently, surprises himself.

"Do you have any tissues?" he asks, looking around. The tiredness from the whole day suddenly hits him like a hammer.

"See, I told you he was a great speaker!" the professor says, taking a tissue himself.

Iwaizumi sniffs again, wiping his nose. "He is," he agrees. One hell of a speaker. His speeches to the team before every match was something only few people could do, and the way Oikawa expressed his utter trust in his team without an ounce of hesitation fired them up more than anything the coach could tell them.

He thanks the professor and glances at his clock - he's been there longer than he expected. He assumes that the investors ought to have left the hospital premises by now, and walks out of the office with the professor at his heels. He's still kind of lost in his thoughts, and doesn't pay too much attention to his surroundings as he wipes his damn runny nose, but a familiar laugh makes him look up, and suddenly he's staring straight into Oikawa's round, doe eyes.

There is a pause, as if the universe stopped for a second. The smile that stretched across Oikawa's face disappears, substituted by a shock that makes Iwaizumi's mind rear back. Iwaizumi takes a deep breath, because suddenly something stirs in him and it's not a positive emotion, and his first proper reaction is punching the nearest wall without looking away from him. Oikawa flinches so violently he takes a step back.

Iwaizumi feels the pain travel up his arm - it's okay, he's not dreaming. He points a shaking finger at Oikawa, breathing harshly. "You!" he barks, stirring a couple of nervous murmurs. The investor Oikawa's been chatting with steps between them, but Oikawa pushes him gently to the side, murmuring 'it's alright' and hesitantly steps forward. Iwaizumi is glad because he is so angry - not to mention irrational - he literally _cannot move._ Oikawa is right in front of him, he can smell his cologne, and his eyes are filled to brink with tears.

"Calm down, please," he murmurs, quietly enough only for Iwaizumi to hear as he gently prays his arm off the wall, avoiding his eyes. Iwaizumi is still numbed but Oikawa tugs him to the side, away from the unwanted eyes.

"Is there.... a-an empty room, or something?" he stutters to the professor, who gapes at them, further away from them than Iwaizumi remembers - he must have backed away from him too.

Oikawa nods, and Iwaizumi can see how the tendons on his neck shift as he swallows. He focuses only on that, on his face, on the arm that burns its way through the layers of Iwaizumi's clothes.

"After so long," Iwaizumi grits his teeth, but Oikawa shakes his head, closing his eyes to keep the tears at bay. "You don't fucking silence me now! Don't you dare!"

Oikawa tugs him more urgently, into the empty office, but the clicks of cameras are like claps of thunder. Blindly, Iwaizumi reaches for the door but misses the handle by an inch, so the one who closes them is none other than the professor who awkwardly shuffles on his feet like a lost child.

"Not one message!" Iwaizumi growls as Oikawa forces him to sit down, dragging a chair to sit opposite of him.

"You're bleeding," Oikawa murmurs, still not looking at him. Iwaizumi forces himself into his field of view, and when he turns his head, Iwaizumi forces him to look him in the eyes by catching his face in his hands.

"Do you have any idea what that did to your mother?"

"Your hand is bleeding." A deflection again.

"You refused to see her! You didn't write to her for half a year!"

"I'm sorry." Oikawa whispers, helplessly fumbling with Iwaizumi's busted hand.

"You haven't even let your family visit you once! In three years!" Iwaizumi accuses in outrage, gripping Oikawa's shaking hands, feeling his hot tears drip down on top of them. "You haven't bothered to let us help!"

"I'm so sorry!" Oikawa cries, wailing out loud, huge tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Iwa! I couldn't!"

"Of course you could! Who do you think you are? Who do you think _we_ are?!"

Oikawa sobs and tries to rub his eyes, but Iwaizumi holds onto his hands -  one hand. The other one slips from his grasp, and Iwaizumi only now realizes that he can't move his fingers. He should be in pain by now, but maybe the emotional pain is too overwhelming at the moment to get the physical one kick in. Their legs bump and Iwaizumi looks down because something is _not right -_ Oikawa's changed the shorts for a pair of simple black slacks, and then it finally clicks. It's the prosthetic leg. He can only focus on it for a short while because of Oikawa's uncontrollable sniffles and hiccups.

"Stop crying, you're a grown ass man! Where are we - in a damn soap opera?" Iwaizumi scolds non-too-gently, using his own rough hand to wipe the tears off Oikawa's face.

"Shut up!" Oikawa hiccups, his hands anxiously hesitating between cleaning up his face and touching whatever part of Iwaizumi they can reach. "You're crying too."

Iwaizumi sniffles again, realizing that he wasn't able to hold back the tears. "I punched my knuckles into my palm, of course I'm crying, I'm in pain."

That's a lie.

"Just... where the hell have you been?" Iwaizumi asks helplessly. He's not even angry anymore.

Oikawa bursts into more tears, and throws himself into Iwaizumi's arms, rubbing his forehead against his left shoulder.

Iwaizumi embraces him patiently, waiting for him to cry himself out, realizing the professor is still very much _there,_ watching them with awe.

"Do you have a first aid kit here?" he addresses the man, snapping him into action.

"Here, here!" the professor offers, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Iwaizumi quietly thanks him with a pointed look at the door, and thank god the man understands, shuffling out of the room. He can't see if there's anyone behind the door, but judging by the quiet murmurs, there's at least a few nosy people.

"Let me help you," Oikawa says, his lip wobbling.

Iwaizumi lets him, and marvels at how clumsy Oikawa is, but his own hands are shaking so the outcome wouldn't have been any different if he had done it on his own.

"Did you watch the speech?" Oikawa asks, finally somewhat calmer.

"Of course I did."

There's a hitch in his breath, and he looks away to the side again, fighting another wave of tears.

"Then you know why I haven't-" he swallows, covering his face with his hands. "Have you seen Wakatoshi? Have you seen what I've done to him?"

Iwaizumi is quiet.

"Have you?" they are trading anger now.

"Of course I have," Iwaizumi admits unwillingly, voice a harsh whisper.

"Then why do you even ask!"

"Because it's not your fault!"

"How is it not my fault! You heard the speech! You're not dense! Put two and two together - what do you think this would have done to my mother? To my family? I hope to God it was not broadcasted, because if my mother finds out what I did - I couldn't bear to be with myself in a room! I didn't need more people to drag down with me!"

"And isolating yourself was a solution!? Have you seen what _that_ has done to her? To us?"

They are both shouting now, and Iwaizumi feels his head spin. He doesn't know whether it's because of his bleeding hand, the pain or the truth about Oikawa's lock down period in the Hell that was his own head.

Oikawa stands up but Iwaizumi grabs his wrist to stop him. "Don't you dare to walk away from me! Ever. Again. When are you going home?"

Oikawa hesitates. Iwaizumi repeats the question, more quietly this time, and looses the grip on his wrist. He probably would have punched him in the face a couple of years ago, just for the sake of beating some sense into him, but he's tired. And hurting. And Oikawa is too - Iwaizumi can't say he knows because he sees it in his eyes, or in the shift of his body language, anymore. It's been a long time since they've seen together, and the sixth sense that helped him see those changes once upon a time, when they were young and more foolish, are dulled.

No, the ache and troubles that weigh down on Oikawa's mind are written in the subtle wrinkles around his eyes and the more visible dimple on his left cheek.

"I've still got a few stops to make before that."

"When," Iwaizumi asks again, still patient.

"Two weeks." Oikawa finally answers, looking at his feet in guilt. "Don't  tell mom yet. I want to surprise her."

Iwaizumi sighs, but nods. "She's been expecting you on New Year's." He doesn't let that one go.

Oikawa cringes - he's bothered by that. So he did plan to come back then. It somehow puts Iwaizumi at ease.

They endure an awkward quiet pause of looking around the room, until Iwaizumi notices Oikawa's eyes stop on his clumsily bandaged hand. He stuffs it in his pocket, biting the inside of his cheek - the pain is starting to kick in.

"Tell me when to take a day off," Iwaizumi says. Oikawa looks up at him, surprised, and Iwaizumi feels the edge of his mouth quirk upwards. He gives a small nod - that's everything Iwaizumi needs.

"Go, before I punch you." Iwaizumi swishes his arm towards the door, stepping to the side.

Oikawa sniffles, but laughs himself. "I can't," he gestures to his face, "there's a lot of cameras waiting for me. And a lot of questions perhaps - I'm a famous man now."

Iwaizumi shakes his head, and goes to the door himself. He hears a quiet 'thank you' before he steps outside.

Of course Oikawa exaggerated - there's barely three cameras pointed at the door, but Iwaizumi has his professional passive face on, and that's nothing too impressive to capture - they might have gotten something more dramatic when Oikawa was dragging into the room though. Iwaizumi can just see the stories. There's quite a crowd gathered around though, all men in suits, phones ready in their hands. They approach Iwaizumi, questions undoubtedly concerning Oikawa at the tip of their tongues, but Iwaizumi is ready for that.

"The press conference ended an hour ago, hasn't it?" he asks, sweeping the crowd with a stern look. There are a few stutters and 'buts', but Iwaizumi is not listening. "Good bye!" He shouts, authoritatively, like a true doctor, and gestures towards the exit.

They actually leave - he really didn't expect that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five pages of chapter 4 are already done....


	4. Tying up Loose Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!
> 
>  
> 
> A huge thanks to my ultra-fast beta reader [social_monstrosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/social_monstrosity), Rinny, who welcomes my silly ideas and corrects my bullshit story parts, and Awa-chan who gives me the final OK.

Iwaizumi doesn't even know how, but he gets back to the apartment, and takes a long, scalding shower to wash the tension off his body. The day turned out to be more crazier than he thought, but somehow, he finds himself feeling surprisingly at ease.

 He got to see Oikawa, after all.

 After such long time, he finally saw him; they talked - cried and then yelled, but that's not important - but despite everything, it went well, and Iwaizumi feels like there's been some kind of unsaid agreement of peace or _something_.

Oikawa is doing okay, Iwaizumi decides, going though the memory over and over. He steps out of the shower, and takes a second to breathe, not minding the water dripping from his hair right to his eyes. He drags his hand down the misty mirror and stares at himself, mind not sure what to think about first.  

And then it occurs to him - they haven't even traded phone numbers.

Iwaizumi groans unhappily, dries himself and shuffles to bed.

 _Tomorrow_ , he thinks, as he rolls around to find a comfortable position. Tomorrow, he's going to ask Mrs. Oikawa for her son's number.

* * *

It turns out he doesn't need to, though, because the first thing he sees when he cracks his eyes open the next morning to check his phone, is a mail that can't be from anyone else but Oikawa.

It sounds much bolder than he was yesterday, not to mention more open. More like he used to be back in the day - Iwaizumi knows he shouldn't feel so bitter about the fact that Oikawa feels more at ease behind a screen than facing him.

He gets ready for work just like he always does, and even though everything goes on like it usually does, Iwaizumi feels something weird crawl in his chest. When his co-workers ask him what happened to his hand, all he says is _'an accident'_ and leaves them exchanging questioning looks.

Hanamaki calls him during the lunch break, all gasp-y and excited, as if he'd just won an Olympic marathon.

"I've found a video! You wouldn't believe-- listen. It's... I have no words, you just have to see it!"

Iwaizumi has an idea what the video could be."Is it Oikawa? Speaking to a bunch of investors?"

 "How, uh - how did you know?"

"I was there," Iwaizumi says with a tired sigh as he sits back on the comfy lounge couch, balancing the bento box on his thighs. He hears Hanamaki take a deep breath, and a silent questioning murmur of a different person - possibly Matsukawa - in the background. "We spoke." Iwaizumi announces.

"You spoke. Together. As in, held a conversation?" Hanamaki sounds more than doubtful. "Elaborate. No, let me- give that back to me."

"You did what?" Matsukawa's voice filters through. They are fighting over the phone. "Did I hear right?" There's some shuffling and then the background noise gains on volume - an unmistakeable sign that the call was put on speaker.

"We talked." Iwaizumi says  without inflection, prodding a piece of ham with his chopsticks.

"You talked." Not even Matsukawa believes him.

Iwaizumi swallows, making a nonchalant 'mm-hm' and nothing else.

"Listen, be honest with me - you didn't talk. I know you. What did you do to him? Should I be checking the hospitals for a new patient, or...?"

"You should." Iwaizumi struggles to scoop a bit of rice, but gives up when he fails for the fifth time.

"Iwa," Hanamaki chirps in, voice on alert. "What happened?"

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath, settles the bento on the table, and flexes his injured hand. "I saw his speech, I met him in the hallway, punched my knuckles back into my hand, then he cried, we yelled at each other, and we're... gonna meet up in two weeks."

There's a beat of silence on the line, and then Makki and Mattsun bombard him with a million questions at once, completely outraged.

 _"You punched him? Is he alright? What did you do to him? Why would you punch him?"_ and many more, shouted over each other.

"Calm down you two," Iwaizumi barks, "I punched a wall, not him. He's alright."

"You said he cried," Hanamaki says, and Iwaizumi vividly imagines his suspicious squint. However, before Iwaizumi can justify himself, Matsukawa jumps in. 

"Of course he cried! It's Oikawa! Your reunion must have been so romantic! Did you hug? Kiss? Make out passionately in front of the cameras?"

"Don't be ridiculous - that would have been all over the news right now."

"Oh, right."

"I'm sorry to interrupt you two," Iwaizumi butts in, tired of their bickering, "But tell me one thing - do you Google Oikawa every day? You are awfully up to date with everything that's happening with him."

There is a pause and then Matsukawa clarifies, playing the insulted party. "What we do or do not Google in our spare time is none of your business!"

"Besides," Hanamaki jumps in, "If we haven't, you wouldn't know anything that's happening in the world."

"So tell me, old-fashioned friend, what's your idea for your first date after two and a half years of radio silence?" Makki asks.

Iwaizumi mulls the idea over. He is yet to reply to Oikawa. "I don't know. I thought dinner? Some quiet, tucked away place where we can catch up in peace."

There are two audible sighs, and then Mattsun's drawl crackles through the speaker. "How original. Groundbreaking even - have you dusted off your cane, grandpa?"

"Shut up! What's bad about that?"

Matsukawa hums in disappointment. "How about you step up your game?"

"Yeah!" Makki agrees eagerly, "Netflix and chill, man, you're not that old!"

"What and _what_? What are you talking about?" Iwaizumi tears the phone away from his ear as the two groan in chorus.

"You... get outside more, please." Mattsun begs.

"Listen, go on with your boring restaurant plan or whatever, and then invite him for coffee." Makki offers, completely unhelpfully. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.

"Do you guys - what are you guys thinking? I don't want to-"

"We're not saying fuck him right away, just - get more comfortable that way. Like you used to!"

Iwaizumi stares at the ceiling. "What are you trying to accomplish?"

"What us?" a pause, "Nothing? We're trying to... help you?" Hanamaki twitters innocently, and Matsukawa immediately joins in with a bunch of positive sounds.

"Oh, why don't you join us then? I'm sure I could--" Iwaizumi doesn't even finish the sentence and he's interrupted by vehement disagreement.

"No, no, you enjoy your old-fashioned catching up dinner alone. We will come visit Oikawa when he invites us on his own." Hanamaki objects quickly.

They try very hard to back out of that topic, and they succeed - through bullying but still - Iwaizumi doesn't get a second chance to ask them to join again because they hang up with a quick good bye and a _'don't fuck up,'_  leaving him sitting there with a thousand mile stare, wondering what just happened. Iwaizumi finishes his lunch, trying to mentally sort out the possible places he could take Oikawa to, and realizes that the thing crawling in his chest is impatience and excitement.

The weeks drag on slower than ever before, and Iwaizumi tries to calm himself down by making himself believe that at least he has enough time to think about where to go out. He makes sure Oikawa has fully given himself up for anything Iwaizumi might suggest - two times actually - and with his initial idea to get out for some proper Japanese food, Iwaizumi ends up picking one of the less well known Okonomiyaki restaurants in Osaka. After Oikawa assures him that he has absolutely no problems getting there, Iwaizumi books a private room, and settles on waiting.

When the time comes and he's finally standing in front of the establishment, sweating in a scratchy shirt and too tight slacks, he still can't believe it's happening.

He's looking at his watch - it's barely three, he's early - when he feels somebody tap him on the shoulder. Oikawa surprises him  with a greeting that throws him back in the time of high school, but somehow, it feels kind of faked. Forced even. An exchange of 'how-are-you's later, they walk in and this time, Iwaizumi is more conscious of Oikawa's legs. He's not limping at all. Iwaizumi can't tell which leg is the prosthetic one and which is real. They get in their room, hang their coats on the hanger, and when they go to sit down, Oikawa scrunches his nose, and with a quiet little _'excuse me'_ sits at the edge of the table, stretching his right leg across the extra cushion.

Their eyes meet, and Iwaizumi sees a knowing twinkle in Oikawa's eyes. He doesn't comment though. The waiter comes with their order - Iwaizumi placed them a day before - and they start piling food on the grill, making a meaningless, but relaxing small talk as they decide what to throw in first. Oikawa makes a huge mess out of it, giggling as he dumps a whole packet of mayo on  top of the mixture, and then stuffs his face full as soon as it's edible.

Iwaizumi sighs, following the suit, noticing the nervous twitching of Oikawa's leg. He also notices the expensive, polished designer dress shoes.

"You're watching me like a hawk." Oikawa comments with his mouth half full, pushing the food on the grill with more focus than necessary.

"You're uncomfortable," Iwaizumi says, joining the staring competition.

"A little. You want to ask about the leg?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested."

Oikawa hums, biting his chopsticks, looking like he is thinking about his answer. Iwaizumi expects a teasing jab, but he's left disappointed.

Iwaizumi decides for a different approach then. "Why are you uncomfortable?"

"It feels... weird. Are you gonna analyze me, doctor? Will I have to fill in a form to settle my bill?"

"We're not in America, and I'm feeling generous. First treatment for free." Iwaizumi hopes they won't be playing the dodge-the-question game all evening.

Oikawa hums again, lower this time - a good sounding hum, Iwaizumi concludes. He looks at Oikawa's foot and finds it still. He wonders how well it's connected to his flesh. And most importantly: _how exactly._

"You're really interested in that leg."

Iwaizumi's reply is a kneejerk reaction. "Professional deformation, don't mind that." He looks up to meet Oikawa's eyes, and he's glad that he finds him looking more happier. There's fondness in there too, but only for a second, and then Oikawa is back at staring at the grill as if he's shy. Iwaizumi knows _shy_ is the last thing he is - if the photos he found of him until now are any evidence.

"How is work?"

Iwaizumi considers it for a while, nudging the okonomiyaki, taking a slice of cabbage out to taste it. "Boring," he says. Oikawa looks up, eyebrow arched in doubt.

"How's your work?" Iwaizumi asks in return, sitting back a little smugly.

"Boring," Oikawa parrots, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. He looks like a cat that just got its bowl of cream while Iwaizumi struggles to control the smile that's threatening to take over.

"Really," Iwaizumi nods his head, faking thoughtfulness. "I've seen some very intriguing pictures."

Oikawa's smug smile freezes on his face. Iwaizumi bites his lips to keep himself from laughing. "You've always been quite adventurous, but this-"

"Stop it!" Oikawa whines - he's actually embarrassed. "How did you even find them?"  

"You're asking me that as if I don't use the internet!" Iwaizumi accuses, grinning from ear to ear.

"You don't!" Oikawa whines louder, pointing an accusative finger at Iwaizumi before hiding his face in his hands with a groan.

"Which ones did you see?"

Iwaizumi stalls on purpose, making Oikawa peek through his fingers. His frown is evident. "Speak!" He orders in a low, muffled voice.

Iwaizumi squints his eye, thinking. "The whiskey label one, the-" he coughs into his hand, "one from an online sports page where you're dribbling a volleyball," Oikawa makes another small whine, "and one in a newspaper. Also quite... revealing." There is a beat of silence filled only with the sounds of sizzling dough on the grill, and then Iwaizumi tilts his head with a small confused frown.

"It's not that I have anything against it, but how did you take that volleyball photo?"

Oikawa shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair. "There was no volleyball involved. And I wasn't totally naked."

Iwaizumi can't tell if he's lying, but he accepts the answer with a resolute nod. Their eyes meet again, but neither look away.

  _'You know, it only takes eight seconds to fall in love if you stare into somebody's eyes?'_ \- Iwaizumi can't remember if it was Makki or Mattsun who said it but it doesn't really matter.

He opens his mouth to say that he's glad that Oikawa is finally back, but his attention is stolen by the sharp smell of something burning.

"Oh, shit!" Iwaizumi quickly grabs the ladles to cut the burning okonomiyaki in half, and starts piling it onto their plates. Oikawa helps with his chopsticks but that doesn't do much except make more mess. They both wait holding their breaths, hoping nobody comes in to check if they set something on fire.

Oikawa is the one who bursts into laughter first, and Iwaizumi throws the ladles on the table, slapping his forehead while trying to hold back his own giggles. They look at each other and they're  five again, building sand castles for the king and queen beetle that Iwaizumi hunted all morning, ending up with scraped knees and elbows.

"Welcome back," Iwaizumi says, startling Oikawa into a sudden silence. He huffs, mouth widening into a wide grin and says: "I'm glad to be back."

They eat their crispy, over grilled okonomiyaki, trading stories from the past three years to pass the time. Iwaizumi listens to Oikawa's adventures from America, and he really can't tell what they are about, as all he can focus on is the relaxed curve of his shoulders and a pink blush dusting his cheeks.

They leave around ten, but don't part right away. They walk around the centre, telling more stories - and Iwaizumi actually listens to him this time - and wasting time staring at window shopping for fun.

When the clock strikes eleven, Iwaizumi checks his watch out of habit and pauses mid step, making Oikawa blink at him in surprise.

"I'm working tomorrow morning, but wanna hang out at my place? You can sleep over if you want."

"No!" Oikawa says so abruptly and sharply, it surprises them both as well as some of the passers-by.

Iwaizumi closes his gaping mouth, frowning in confusion. "I-I didn't mean like--" Oikawa interrupts him, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, I know you didn't..." He swallows, looking down on his shoes. He scrunches his face for a second and then shakes his head again. The smile that appears on his face looks incredibly forced. "Some other time."

Iwaizumi nods, because he still can't find any proper words. He clears his throat, lips in a thin line. "Is it because... the leg?"

"Thank you for the evening." Oikawa deflects. "It was nice seeing you again."

 Iwaizumi purses his lips, nodding. So it is the leg.

"Goodbye, Iwa." Oikawa says, smile more genuine this time. He turns around and walks away with a wave, leaving Iwaizumi standing on the spot trying to figure out what he did wrong. He is a little bit saddened by the fact that Oikawa still distances himself, especially after he made some things very clear after that speech, but he's willing to wait. And the fact that Oikawa turns around one last time to look back at him when he's a good distance away puts Iwaizumi makes him a little bit warmer on the inside.

He waves back and goes home alone, replaying the evening in his head, kicking himself for things that  could have been different if he had or hadn't said this or that. He's doesn't even reach the end of the street when his phone vibrates, leaving him hurriedly taking it out and almost dropping it on the ground. It's a message from Oikawa. Iwaizumi checks the other end of the street, sighing when he can't make out the bouncy brown hair anymore.

_'Thank you for the evening, I really enjoyed myself. When are we doing this again?'_

Iwaizumi huffs out a laugh and types in his own reply.

_'Soon, hopefully'_

Maybe he hasn't fucked up as bad as he thought.

* * *

They agree on another meeting, but this time it's a tea house. The plan is set, ironed down to the point where they are practically role-playing the meet up in the chat, but the only hitch in their plan remains their impossible-to-align schedules. Iwaizumi has taken a too long break from work during New Year, and doesn't have the luxury to skip more days when his residency is coming to a sure end and he's supposed to hand in his research, and apply for a proper job. He's really hoping to get the spot he's been training at until now, but nothing can be sure nowadays.

He tells Oikawa, who congratulates and cheers for him, assuring him that everything will be fine.

There's something about hearing it from Oikawa that makes Iwaizumi worry a tiny bit less. And he's halfway done with his research to boot. He even has a really nice relationship with the boss - and by 'really nice' he means the boss hasn't figured out he had some hanky-panky (which he isn't proud of, but not sorry for either) with his ex-girlfriend. A luckily dodged bullet indeed. So he has hope.

Iwaizumi stays in Osaka, while Oikawa jumps between staying with his family in Miyagi and working in Tokyo. They text a lot. Not as much calling, but there are evenings when Oikawa feels exceptionally chatty or when he needs to tell him about the awesome book he just finished - those are the evenings when Iwaizumi falls asleep one ear pressed against his overheating phone.

Iwaizumi gets calls from either Matsukawa or Hanamaki almost every week, until one day they announce that they finally managed to drag Oikawa to their flat to scold and hang out with him. The call leaves Iwaizumi somewhat on edge, so he checks in with Oikawa a few days later to make sure nothing weird has happened - Iwaizumi has been getting weird vibes off them for quite some time.

"What are you talking about?" Oikawa asks, his voice coloured with genuine bewilderment. "Makki had defrosted some puffs, we had coffee, and caught up on life."

"Really?"

There is a pause over the line, and for some reason, Iwaizumi imagines Oikawa taking the phone away from his hear to give it _The Look._

"Are you... alright?" The question goes way too high at the end. It seems like Oikawa is trying not to laugh right at him.

"Never mind. They have been giving me a hard time over a few... long forgotten things lately." Iwaizumi tries to justify, but when he really thinks about it, maybe he's been over thinking it.  The call suddenly feels meaningless, and stretches his mental _'List of Things I Could Have Done Different.'_

"When have they not? I'd be surprised if you'd tell me they were not like wasps all the time."

Iwaizumi sinks into his couch, carefully analyzing his tone. "You seem a little bitter yourself - are you sure nothing really happened?"

"Well, it's Makki and Mattsun, what do you expect."

"True." Iwaizumi laughs, "So, do you finally have a solid schedule for your photo shoots?"

Oikawa's sigh drags on for a good thirty seconds. "Well," is all he voices in the end.

"Alright, I guess not." Iwaizumi acknowledges but Oikawa has something more to add.

"There is a way I can get to Osaka. But not until a fortnight. I have to be in Tokyo next week - that's gonna be a very important shoot with some other sportsmen."

"Oh?" Iwaizumi interrupts, secretly hoping that this shoot will finally bring some clothed photos.

"Yeah, I think Bokuto will be there - remember him? Crazy hair, spikes like thunder - he slapped my back once and I think you could still see some traces of his palm. I'm... really curious what our photographer will come up with."

Iwaizumi hums, intrigued. He does remember Bokuto, even if a little faintly. "Any other names I might recognize?" The silence over the line is almost palpable. Iwaizumi actually checks if the call hasn't dropped. "Hello?"

"Yes, sorry, there are some." Another sigh, shorter this time. And less dramatic. "Wa - Ushijima is going to be there."

It looks like it's not just Iwaizumi's tongue that tastes bitter after that name. Though, it might not necessarily mean the _bitter_ -bitterness.

"He's doing fine," is the first thing Iwaizumi comes up with, because Oikawa sounds so torn about it Iwaizumi can't help but to try to ease him up.

The silence stretches on, and Iwaizumi feels an itch at the back of his head. "Listen-"

"I know," Oikawa says, wistfully, "I know he is. I just," another sigh, "Feel like I would - I don't even know. I'm over-thinking."

 _'You're not the only one,'_ Iwaizumi wants to say but bites his tongue instead. He feels like a change of topic is very much needed, and he thankfully has an ace up his sleeve, even though it's "Are the photos gonna be... you know."

"Going to be what?" Oikawa clearly has to play dumb, much to Iwaizumi's annoyance. But at least the distraction works out.

"Going to be... you know. Like usual?"

"Usual as in...?"

Iwaizumi groans, half laughing. "Come on. You know what I mean." Oikawa's rings right into his ear, and Iwaizumi feels his ears grow red. He covers his eyes with his palm, grinning like a dumb idiot.

"Yes, yes they are going to be like usual." Oikawa says after he catches his breath. It's lovely to hear such a merry tone in his voice. But Iwaizumi is still having a hard time coming to terms with the general theme of the photos.

"Who even comes up with such ideas? Do they pay you enough for that?"

Oikawa laughs again. "They pay me enough, don't worry about that. And it's my personal photographer - he's already engaged. I'm actually doing the photo shoot with his fiancé."

Iwaizumi shakes his head for himself. "Why so many nudes though?" He just can't wrap his head around it. It's not that he minds, but he does mind a little. He doesn't see the point. And listening to the deaf silence that fills the next moment tells him that he probably should see it. He hears Oikawa sigh over the line - not a angry or upset sigh, a tired one.

There is an intake of breath and then Oikawa finally speaks. Iwaizumi knows he broke some kind of seal. "How many amputees do you see in fashion mags? Or disabled people modelling?"

Iwaizumi knows right away where the conversation is going and he feels like a complete idiot. "Not many."

"Right, not many. Why is that?"

"Because they - they don't want to be seen?"

"Yes. Because of that, and because of the pity - which is the worst way people can look at us."

"Oikawa, I'm-"

"It's okay." Oikawa sighs, amused but sad. "I'm sorry I brought this up. Man," he laughs, "This conversation took a turn."

Iwaizumi feels a little bit bitter. "Yeah. When are you free enough to do a movie night?" He proposes with the hope that Oikawa will finally say yes.

"I'll let you know as soon as I know the schedule." Oikawa promises, and Iwaizumi can't decide whether it's because he feels guilty or because he genuinely wants to see a movie with him.

The call leaves Iwaizumi feeling kind of drained and empty, and does nothing but to make him doubt another portion of their dialogue.

They don't call each other the following week, but they succumb to a short exchange of messages, especially at the end of the week of Oikawa's shoot. Iwaizumi becomes an unwilling victim to a lot of photos of food, half-naked models, a pointedly empty clothing racks to emphasize just how much clothing they are going to wear, a blurred picture of Bokuto which looks like it was taken during a run for his life, and finally, a selfie of Oikawa leaning against a napping Ushijima. The fact that Oikawa has a huge grin plastered across his face is enough to communicate that their meeting went well.

 _Maybe too well,_ a mean voice at the back of Iwaizumi's mind whispers. He has no right to think that, and doesn't know where the voice even comes from, but it sure as hell makes him feel like the biggest asshole ever. He is not jealous. He is not bitter - he's glad that both Oikawa and Ushijima are doing fine. But there is just something about the thought of seeing Oikawa back with Ushijima, or with any man, and thinking about the chance that they might end up together is enough to make something ugly stir in his chest. He bites his tongue and lies to himself that he's alright with that.

The photos stop rather abruptly, and he knows work is not something that would stop Oikawa from sending them. He waits, and waits, and busies himself with dishes, cleaning up and moping around. His phone becomes his enemy for the suddenly very quiet afternoon. He replays many exaggerated scenarios about the many ways the day could have played out for Oikawa and Ushijima in his head, laughing at his own pathetic ass. Iwaizumi sits down on his couch in defeat, drags his palms down his face, and waits.

He doesn't know that Oikawa had skipped several nights of sleep, dreading that day. He doesn't know that Oikawa walked into that building that morning with trembling hands because he was too afraid to see on which ground he and Ushijima would be.

He doesn't know that Ushijima is prepared for all of that. That he waits for Oikawa in the lobby, and welcomes him with opened arms that Oikawa runs into without hesitation, trying to be as casual as his fluttering heart lets him. They have their hands full of work, but that doesn't stop them from using every free second to squeeze in a brief chat to catch up. Their eyes never stray too far away from each other, and they don't pretend to be shy when Akaashi calls for intimate photos. When their turn is over, they always end up on the far couch tucked in the darkened end of the studio, away from shiny lenses and curious ears, murmuring away about how life was.

But it doesn't end there. The longer the photoshoot takes, the less clothes they are required to wear, and the more unrest and impatience it stirs inside of them. When it's Ushijima's turn to pose for underwear, Oikawa's mind stops paying attention to his phone. A single glance from Ushijima after his turn is enough to make him grab his wrist, whisper into his ear, and drag him towards his changing room.  

"I hated our last goodbye. Let me say a proper one," he says, hearing no protest in return.

He leaves his phone forgotten on the back table.

That is when Iwaizumi's restlessness meets its limit, and makes him dial Oikawa's number. But it's not Oikawa who takes the call.

A calm voice announces that he can't be reached now, apologizing for the inconvenience through a distant, excited wolf whistle, and a loud laugh. Iwaizumi rubs his sore chest and thanks the person for letting him know.  He turns on the TV and stares at the screen, mind miles away, imagining all the things Oikawa and Ushijima could possibly be doing at the moment. He knows it might be a little over the top, but at the same time, he knows that, in Oikawa's case, it might not be that far from his imagination.

And while Iwaizumi is left with a bottle of cold beer and a cooking channel, Oikawa is busy keeping his needy moans at bay as Ushijima hastily strips the last bits of clothing left on him, eager to touch and kiss every bit of skin he can reach. Oikawa is just as eager and hungry for him, but he's careful not to leave any marks. The little locked changing room might be a step up from the bathroom stalls, but it's still not a big win, and there's too many hangers and racks, and too little space. Oikawa has a protest on the tip on his tongue but Ushijima solves the problem for him as he grabs him by the thighs and hoists him up, startling a small breathy laugh out of him.

Ushijima takes a breath, ready to ask the most important question but Oikawa silences him with his own smirking mouth, pressing two little, cold, golden-wrapped squares against his bare chest. Ushijima doesn't need more.

Oikawa's plan was to make it quick, but that particular plan was promptly changed. He doesn't bring himself to scold himself for being incredibly unprofessional.

They finish wrapped around each other like vines, their arms squeezing so tightly they almost can't breathe.

"I've missed you." Ushijima sighs, trying to catch his breath as he slides them both onto the floor.

Oikawa caresses his cheek with a single finger, hesitating. He leans his head against Ushijima's shoulder and hugs him again, but it has a different meaning.

"I'm going to miss you." He corrects, forcing Oikawa to look him in the eye. He knows exactly what Ushijima means and he doesn't feel sad about it at all. He is about to reply but is interrupted by a startling loud banging on the door.

"Wrap it up - literally guys! Your turn to get in the spotlights." Bokuto yells, legging it right after, shouting for the make-up artist to get ready to fix their faces. Ushijima and Oikawa look at each other, managing to keep a straight face for exactly three seconds before they burst out laughing.

"We should get dressed," Oikawa says between giggles, struggling to stand up. Ushijima remains seated on the floor, looking around with pursed lips. He reaches out to grab his discarded underwear from the floor, dangling it on his finger for Oikawa to see.

"Well, if you call this 'dressed.'" Oikawa falls into another fit of laughter, searching for his own boxers.

They are a little bit embarrassed when Akaashi spots them sneaking out of  there, but they know they've avoided an earful when they see a tiny smile on his lips as he shakes his head, ushering them to change again.

When the shoot is over, Oikawa hugs Ushijima one last time, wishing him well on during the winter Olympics. They know they are never going to be this close to each other ever again.

* * *

Iwaizumi jerks awake late at night, confused and blinded by the bright TV screen he forgot to turn off. It takes him a second to realize what woke him up, but the constant unforgiving vibrations that made his left side numb jog his memory up. He digs the phone from under himself, and squints at the screen. It's pretty damn late.

"Yes?" He asks, already fully awake.

"Hey," Oikawa's tired but content voice greets, followed by a long nasal sigh.

"Is everything alright?"

"Mm, yes, I-I'm sorry I ignored your messages. I was a little... busy."

Iwaizumi quietly sighs in relief. "It's okay. Are you on your way home?"

A pause. "Yeah. Listen, I am free next week. Want to meet up?"

Iwaizumi rubs his eyes and checks his phone to make sure he isn't dreaming. "Yeah. Sure, yes, when?" He stutters, looking for a piece of paper to write the date down. "You sure everything's alright?"

"Yeah. I think I'm gonna - no, never mind that. I'll see you next week then?"

"Next week it is." Iwaizumi promises and waits for Oikawa to hang up.

Of course, the next week is also the time for the photos to be published, and Iwaizumi takes a moment from his work to sit down and check them online. They are amazing. They are provocative (especially the one where Oikawa is standing over Ushijima, his prosthetic leg on his naked torso, looking at the camera as if he's the king of the world.) He doesn't know what makes him feel so darn edgy about them though. Maybe it's the gentle touch of Ushijima's hand on Oikawa's artificial calf, or maybe it's Oikawa's soft stare in their next photo - even though it might just as well be the photographers orders. Iwaizumi feels like they have resolved whatever issue they had, and even though he can't help but to feel a tad jealous - so darn much it hurts - he does feel relieved.

When he puts together this, all the photos Oikawa has spammed him with, and the weird late-night call, it fills him with hope that Oikawa might have finally moved on.

They meet on a rainy Saturday, and only for a couple of hours, because both of them got unexpectedly jumped by extra work, but Iwaizumi notices something different. Oikawa's attitude changes a bit - he's trying to be more genuine, more invested.

They keyword, of course, is ' _trying'_.

They still dance in their weird invisible circle that's too wide for them to touch even with outstretched arms, too empty to fill just with words. Oikawa sashays around with graceful steps, voice merry but not completely honest and comfortable, and Iwaizumi drags himself around, not wanting to push him too much. He reaches out for him, more than once, but Oikawa still doesn't acknowledge the gesture. He looks at him, but he never really meets his eye. But the longer they are together, the smaller the circle gets, and the more glances Oikawa throws at him. Iwaizumi notices how the tips of his shoes stop being Oikawa's main point of attention, and to be honest, the pretended shyness was quite ridiculous and tiring. He also notices that the circle is getting smaller, just as the number of messages they exchange. They find  more time to hang out.

At the end of summer, Iwaizumi can finally say that Oikawa feels comfortable around him. He still refuses to stay over for whatever mysterious reason, but Iwaizumi doesn't let himself get discouraged.

They have a few movie nights that go well but only until the movie is over.

It's always at Iwaizumi's flat because Oikawa's living conditions remain questionable, and Iwaizumi refuses to dig into that topic too deep. He makes a few attempts but Oikawa is hell-bent of steering out of there as soon as possible. So, he leaves it at that, makes coffee, tea, or whatever they feel like, throws in some junk food, or, if they're feeling fancy, takeout sushi. They snuggle on the couch (first two weeks on the opposite ends, but it didn't take them long to meet in the middle like two magnets) and watch whatever trash movie Iwaizumi finds in his eons old CD case.

And after the movie is over, Oikawa raises his head from Iwaizumi's shoulder, blinks away the comfort and sleep, and fights to leave the flat like a demon from a church.

Iwaizumi tries to talk him into staying, but Oikawa's mind remains unchanged, and makes Iwaizumi's attempts to be the way they were before harder. He doesn't try to stop him though - with words maybe, but he never really holds him back, not even when he gets frustrated at Oikawa's non-existent excuse.  The hastily thrown _'sorry'_ and a bitter smile over his shoulder never feels enough,  and even though Oikawa adds a quick smooch on the cheek at the end of the month that stuns him into an almost hour long state of surprise for the first time, it doesn't taste as sweetly as he'd like.

The mid of autumn brings by another change. Oikawa announces that a lot of his shoots are going to take place near Osaka, and Iwaizumi feels initially very positive about it - after all, they get to spend a lot of time together. But when he gets a message from Oikawa's mom right after her son's overjoyed announcement, he reconsiders. It's just like the ones before Oikawa moved back - mild, mundane, just asking how her baby boy is doing - Iwaizumi stares at it with a one eyed squint, trying to remember if he missed anything indicating that Oikawa has already moved out. He comes up with nothing, but he doesn't think much about it and lets Auntie know that, as far as he knows, Oikawa is doing just fine and is about to move to Osaka.

It bothers him, but he isn't bold enough to ask outright what's going on. He gets the answer nonetheless, and it happens on an lonely evening after work, when his boring evening routine gets interrupted by an unexpected knock on his door.

Iwaizumi pauses with a toothbrush shoved in his mouth, rolls his eyes - because which damn revolutionary religion preacher is it going to be this time? - and goes to open.

There at his doorstep is a red cheeked, scarf wrapped Oikawa, eyes cast down at the floor, and two suitcases on either of his side. He glances up guiltily, and then over Iwaizumi's shoulder to check the flat, and then asks if he can crash for the night.  

Iwaizumi sighs, and goes to reply, completely forgetting he has mouth full of toothpaste. He coughs it out, ruining both his shirt and Oikawa's coat in the process, and as he reaches towards Oikawa to clean him up with a mute scream in the back of his throat, he finds him suppressing  a teary laugh.

Well, small victories count as well.

* * *

Iwaizumi keeps quiet. He wants to hear what the problem is, he wants to help, but at the same time, he doesn't want to push Oikawa to talk about it if he's not feeling like it. He knows Oikawa will tell him, in his own time, and Iwaizumi continues lying to himself that he is a patient man and he doesn't mind Oikawa's heightened elusiveness at all.

He decides to wait for a week. That is the limit.

Oikawa spends more time out than at home - yes, Iwaizumi stubbornly calls his flat _'home'_ for both of them - and Iwaizumi would bet his best tie that there is more to it than just work. Once or twice, he found him restlessly napping on the couch, which he so gracefully accepted as his substitute bed - nothing out of ordinary. What's weird though, is Oikawa's surprising and illogical freak out that followed Iwaizumi's single attempt to shake him awake. Naturally, he tried to brush it off as nothing, but Iwaizumi doesn't buy it. Again, he decides not to push, but the list of things filed as _'deal with later'_ is getting too long for comfort.

There's one time Iwaizumi catches Oikawa sneaking home when he's drinking his first morning cup of coffee, just before going to work. He gives him a look that makes Oikawa scutter away with his tail between his legs and ears pulled back. All Iwaizumi can do is shake his head and go to work, hoping his new roommate will stay at home long enough for him to catch him later.  He still doesn't have the heart to breach the issue.

When he comes home that evening, tired and sighing every third second, he finds Oikawa curled up on the couch in the darkness, staring at the TV with wide eyes. Iwaizumi toes off his shoes, hangs his coat, abandons his suitcase by the door and plops down at Oikawa's feet, only then noticing that Oikawa didn't bother to put on any pants. He can't bring himself to complain though, but he wishes he had more than just the TV screen light to ogle his bionic leg. A bowl of freshly peeled tangerines suddenly invades his line of sight, but when he goes to get one, Oikawa rudely snatches it away.

"Hands," he says, not even bothering to look away from the TV.

"Really? You're going to give me shit for not washing my hands?" But the whining does nothing but make Oikawa cuddle the bowl to his chest and nudge Iwaizumi's thigh with his leg. Iwaizumi throws his arms in the air, sighs, and goes to the bathroom like a sulky, scolded child muttering under his breath.

He honestly expects Oikawa to tease him more, but when he returns to the couch, Oikawa turns around on the couch and plays his lap cat, balancing the bowl on his chest, close enough for Iwaizumi to reach. He stuffs his mouth full of tangerines and tries to focus on whatever cooking channel Oikawa can't take his eyes off while Oikawa shamelessly stretches out his legs, making Iwaizumi's attempts to keep his eyes on the screen completely futile.

"You're staring, Iwa." Oikawa scolds quietly, still not looking away from the TV. "Should I give you the leg to play with for a while?"

"Sure, but some other time maybe. I'm too tired tonight." Iwaizumi says, forcing himself to look straight ahead.

"Not too tired for _the talk,_ are you?"

Iwaizumi purses his lips with a thoughtful nod, finally catching Oikawa's eyes. He's staring back at him from his lap, eerily quiet and calm. There is some resignation in there, too, and Iwaizumi judges that it is the high time to get to the point.

"If I give you my leg, will you let it go?" Oikawa tries one more time, and when Iwaizumi shakes his head, he turns on his side, putting the empty bowl on the table and resting his wide palm on the top of Iwaizumi's knee. "Alright, which one first?"

Iwaizumi wages in his head which one he wants to hear first. "Your mom's worried." He starts, making Oikawa heave a sigh. Iwaizumi pokes the side of his head, gently tugging at a stray messy curl. "She's been sending me mails almost every day - asking me how you're doing, how's work and other totally out of character questions, to which I reply the same thing every damn day: _fine_. Also, I hate lying to her."

"What did you tell her?" Oikawa mumbles, his attitude making Iwaizumi clench his fist and control himself so he doesn't hit him.

"What do you think?" He replies, voice dipping low. "I don't want to lie to her anymore, but I don't know what to tell her. You're fine, but you're _not fine."_

Iwaizumi patiently waits for Oikawa to gather his words, drilling holes into the side of his damn messy head with his eyes.

"Remember the last shoot?" Oikawa finally speaks. Iwaizumi rests his hand down, suddenly realizing that he is the one who doesn't want to have _the talk._ All he manages to get out of himself is a weak, acknowledging hum.

"What does it have to-"

"I slept with Wakatoshi - well," he scoffs, "not really _slept_ , but you know what I mean."

This time, Iwaizumi can't even make a hum. The ' _thank you, you don't really need to rub this into my face_ ' is left unsaid. "Okay?" Iwaizumi breathes out, pointedly raising his voice at the end.

Oikawa turns back around to stare straight at him, face void of any emotion.

"I called you, if you remember. I was happy, finally feeling like I managed to put that behind me - behind both of us. But that's not the point. I went home, I slept it through, and went on with the week as is nothing has changed. Things were finally turning out to work as they should. Mom was happy, father was happy, sister was all over the place from happiness too - the typical family, with _normal,_ functioning people."

Iwaizumi clenches his teeth at how much stress Oikawa puts on the word 'normal'. He is normal - he always was, and always will be. One leg doesn't make a difference.

"So I decided to tell them." Oikawa continues. "To come out of the damn closet. You know it's not like I would ever bring home a child, so what's the point. The photos were about to be published anyway, the interviewers keep asking the same questions over and over and more rudely, and Wakatoshi and I are tired. It is something that's bound to be found out, and I didn't want my parents to find out through a heavily edited article."

He takes a deep breath, but his voice doesn't waver.

"I told them. Mom was... accepting. She was not happy but she came to terms with it pretty quickly. Father was less accepting, and while he wasn't openly hostile or disdainful, he couldn't look me in the eye." He laughs bitterly, licking his lips. Iwaizumi watches his neck as he swallows hard. "I tried to stay there, I tried to act like everything was the same, but..."

"I get it." Iwaizumi whispers. He looks away when Oikawa laughs again, less bitter, but more sarcastic.

"So there's that." Oikawa sums up. "I imagine it's difficult to accept something like that, and I'm giving them time to make up their minds - father especially. If he doesn't want to see me, I-I-" His voice finally breaks.

Iwaizumi's knee-jerk reaction is to knock his fist on his head, not too hard, but not gentle either.

"Are you an idiot?"

"Hey!" Oikawa yelps, struggling to keep his arm away and the top of his head unabused, but he's not very successful, because Iwaizumi is just as strong as he was before his trips to the gym became almost nonexistent. It escalates into an impromptu tickle fight, which, in Oikawa's case, is super effective, but doesn't work on Iwaizumi at all. Iwaizumi attacks his sides until he's just a wheezing ball of laughter, stuttering as he asks for mercy. Iwaizumi lets him go, but only when Oikawa's bionic leg strays a little bit too close and too abruptly towards his head. Safety always comes first.

Oikawa's eyes are full of tears, but his mouth screwed in a wobbly smile.  

"Of course it's going to be alright. Have a little faith in them. They also have a grandson already, so..." Iwaizumi laughs, but Oikawa doesn't join in.

"How can you be so sure?" He whispers.

Iwaizumi look him dead in the eye, all laughter forgotten. "They have lost you once already - they won't let it happen again."

The silence stretches on, and the wheels that are turning in Oikawa's head are almost audible.

"I guess you're right." Oikawa agrees, a smile blooming on his face again.

Iwaizumi mentally crosses out that topic and braces himself for breaching the second one. He slaps Oikawa's thigh, waiting for a bit longer until he calms down and stops throwing empty threats around.

"That is one down." He says, making Oikawa groan and squirm to sit up.

"You won't let me rest tonight, won't you?"

Iwaizumi shakes his head, lips pursed. "Spill."

But it seems like the tickle attack woke Oikawa up, and put him in a playful mood. At least he's not sad, Iwaizumi thinks. "What else is there to spill?"

"Do you want me to punch you again?" Iwaizumi sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It doesn't help much. He is about to speak again but he cuts himself off with his own yawn that infects Oikawa as well.

"Stop it."

"It's your fault!" Oikawa argues, rubbing his eyes with his fists. "Alright, Doc, what is your diagnosis?"

"Are you trying to turn this against me?"

"No, I'm trying to talk around it until you fall asleep, because it's another long, tiring story, I have much better suggestions for the rest of the evening than to talk about my messed up head."

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue in annoyance. He didn't mean for this to take such a turn. A playful Oikawa is a dangerous Oikawa, especially if Iwaizumi is the one being played.

"If I kissed you would you leave it be?" Oikawa asks, voice so low and teasing, Iwaizumi feels his stomach drop.

"Right after you told me you-" he uses his fingers to gesture quote marks for extra emphasis, "-slept with Ushijima?"  Iwaizumi swallows dryly, knowing that he's  fighting a lost battle. Grasping straws -as they say.

"Oh, so you _do_ mind! And here I thought you-"

Iwaizumi slaps his hand over Oikawa's mouth to silence him, turning the rest of the sentence into intelligible, muffled hum.

"I'm not eighteen anymore you can't - stop it for God's sake!" Iwaizumi grits through clenched teeth as Oikawa smushes his cheeks. Unfortunately for Iwaizumi, there is no way out of the cheek-rub-of-death since Oikawa's annoyingly long arms seem to have no limit.

"You can't avoid the topic!" Iwaizumi warns, but Oikawa clearly has some different plans. He stops abusing Iwaizumi's cheeks, but doesn't drop his hands. The twinkle in his eye becomes brighter, and his unexpectedly serene face makes all of Iwaizumi's hair stand up. He finds himself unable to move, or even look away, as the only thing that he can concentrate on is the thumb that gently strokes his cheekbone.

"Really?" Oikawa whispers, sitting up.

And suddenly, they are kissing, and Iwaizumi's mind effectively shuts down, leaving his instincts in control.

He hates the expression _'the time has stopped'-_  it's so cliché and nonsensical it makes him cringe - but when Oikawa's soft moan against his mouth brings him back to his senses, he can't tell how much time has passed. He cracks his eyes open, and his brain finally reconnects with the reality and the rest of his body, allowing him to feel his right hand tangled in Oikawa's soft hair, and left  travelling up his naked side, pushing his shirt up. He feels  Oikawa's fingers slide up and tug at his hair, making him realize that he has completely lost control, and let himself go way too far. Iwaizumi breaks the kiss, so reluctant and weak to Oikawa's spell he almost gives in again when he feels him chase after.

Iwaizumi takes a second to sort out his thoughts, to clear the mist from his mind, ignoring Oikawa's wondering hands as they slowly unbutton his shirt.  

"You know," Oikawa whispers between the small pecks he covers his face with, "I forgot to ask you if you have a significant other I should be worried about."

Iwaizumi hesitates  - he is really a horrible human being. "I do, actually." He says, revelling in how Oikawa's face slowly transforms from tempting to shell-shocked. He looks like somebody just poured a bucket full of ice cold water over him.

"It's called work," Iwaizumi clarifies before Oikawa can really start freaking out, barely catching his fist in time as he takes a swing at him.

"Oh my God! You damn asshole!" Oikawa screams, struggling to free his hands from Iwaizumi's iron grip. "Let go of me you jerk! I'm going to throw you in the trash where you belong!"

Iwaizumi makes a mental note to take more precautions when pissing Oikawa off as it turns out holding him back through laughter and the many apologies is not an easy thing to do. He only barely manages to defend himself, even if it is by flipping them over and sitting on Oikawa's legs while using his whole upper body to anchor him to the couch.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." Iwaizumi apologizes, carefully moving to the side to free Oikawa's bionic leg from beneath himself. He briefly wonders if Oikawa would try to kick him, but it seems like he's not that reckless, and instead of another assault, he rests the leg against Iwaizumi's side, the cool surface chilling him through his clothes.  

"I'm not telling you shit now!" Oikawa sulks, turning his head away. "I'm done, good night!"

"Are you really?" Iwaizumi drawls, forcefully intertwining their fingers. "Pity really. And here I was thinking we'd do something really fun."

"Mm, I'm not falling for that," Oikawa gasps, his resolve crumbling when Iwaizumi bends down, stopping far enough to be just inches away from his reach. "Stop teasing me!" Oikawa breathlessly whines when he finds out he's really at Iwaizumi's mercy.

"How the tables have turned." Iwaizumi smirks, blowing his breath on Oikawa's neck, making him giggle through an unsuccessful glare. They share a look for a single heartbeat, and then Iwaizumi hesitates again, experimentally dipping his head a little bit lower.  However, this time, Oikawa is more tentative. He only goes for a sweet little peck, and then another one on the corner of his mouth, and then again on the other side, and Iwaizumi slowly answers with his own short kisses, his tired mind wondering when exactly did they cross that awkward, thin line they'd been walking along ever since they've met.

Which leads him back to the thing he's been trying to get out of Oikawa in the first place.

"Do you like role-playing?" He murmurs into Oikawa's ear, finally letting go of his hands in order to support his body weight in a more comfortable way.

Oikawa uses the newly regained freedom to go back to undo the three last buttons on Iwaizumi's shirt, snorting against his neck. "Oh, my! Role-playing?"

"Mm-hm." Iwaizumi hums, trying not to laugh.

"Are we going to play Doctors and nurses, _doctor_?"

"That wouldn't be fair now, would it. I obviously have the upper hand." Iwaizumi argues. Oikawa is now struggling to keep his laughter quiet. "I was thinking, maybe, priests-?"

"Hmm, let me guess," Oikawa sighs in mock disappointment, making it clear to Iwaizumi that he saw through his lame attempt. "I am supposed to be the guilty sinner who comes to confess why his guilty mind won't let him sleep."

"Damn it," Iwaizumi curses softly, shaking his head. "Was I that transparent?"

"Some things just never change." Oikawa laments with an exaggerated pout, gently slapping Iwaizumi's cheek. "You can still save your face," Oikawa grins, grabbing the collar of Iwaizumi's shirt, dragging him closer. "Or was that really the only _fun_ thing you had up your sleeve?"

"There is one more," Iwaizumi plays along, knowing that there is no way he'll get anything more out of Oikawa tonight. " _fun thing_ you can do."

Oikawa hums lowly in his throat, it almost sounds like he's purring. "You keep surprising me, Iwa! Tell me! Tell me what to do!" He whines happily , hands already latched onto the buckle of Iwaizumi's belt.

Iwaizumi bites the inside of his cheek, praying to the Gods to give him the strength to resist, as he nuzzles his nose against Oikawa's, and says: "How about that hoard of dishes you left in my sink?"

And with that he sits up, climbs off him and leaves, leaving a completely stunned Oikawa gaping at his back.

"What the fuck?!" Oikawa's outraged yell echoes around the flat, making Iwaizumi's grin wider.

"Gods protect you if I see them there in the morning!" Iwaizumi shouts from his bedroom as he untangles his tie, and gets ready for bed. The sound of water and clattering dishes has never sounded to pleasant.

* * *

Iwaizumi's day off starts with the sound of some annoying twittering bird coming from God knows where, and a low murmur of a familiar voice that makes him doze off three times before his stomach sends out a warning cramp to let him know it's way past his usual get up time. Some people may refer to it as an ungodly hour to start the weekend at, but eight-thirty in the morning is to Iwaizumi what eleven is to others - a high time to get up and start being productive. Never mind that there is no work to get done. He takes his time dressing up, however, aware that Oikawa, who occupies his couch, might not share the same sentiment. He carefully opens the door, ready to welcome the sight of a hairy, uncovered leg and a mop of messy hair buried into the pillow, but instead finds only unmade covers and an otherwise empty fat. Iwaizumi stands in the doorway, squinting at the couch, even going to feel it to find possible hints of how early Oikawa has bounced, and what his reason might have been. He ponders about it for a while, sitting on the couch with his hand on the pillow, and the paranoid voice in his head whispers that _maybe he left because you fucked up last night,_ and Iwaizumi tries to shake off that thought, but it keeps clawing at his mind the whole day. The suspicious white envelope he finds on the kitchen table doesn't help it one bit - in fact, it only adds anger to the already annoying paranoia.

It's money. An envelope filled with money; and a damn little note that says 'rent money' and 'sorry'. _Sorry_! Iwaizumi doesn't know what to be more upset about. He flips the paper and finds an additional message, scrawled more hastily than the first one. Apparently, Oikawa got an early morning call to work.

Well, that explains the weird twittery sounds in the morning.

The day drags on more slowly than usual, and Iwaizumi tells himself that he's being stupid and unreasonable, and shoves the paranoia away, opting to focus on cooking instead of over-thinking. He makes Oikawa's bed for him, mops the floors and wastes away half of the afternoon watching news and drinking beer, then goes to the bakery a few blocks away to buy rolls and milk bread.

When he's at the checkout he takes out his phone and finds no messages at all, and again wonders if it would be too rude to start talking about last night through messages, but decides to wait. He's a grown up man, he can deal with stuff face to face.

Two hours later, back in his flat, he's replaying possible apocalyptical outcomes of the conversation in his head, wondering if there is a way to bar the door if worse comes to worst and Oikawa decides to leave. He doesn't notice that the sun has long since gone down and he's been plotting possible imprisonment for good three hours, but the sound of keys hitting the door brings him back to earth, as well as to the problem at hand.

Oikawa looks, yet again, like deer in headlights -probably because Iwaizumi scrambled to sit up straight and look serious a second too late.

"Hey," he greets, and mentally congratulates himself for being _so fucking original, damnit._ Oikawa offers his own little tired 'hey' in return and remains hovering by the entrance, putting the keys into the bowl on the table.

"I sense another talk coming." He says quietly, not making a move to take off his coat. Iwaizumi interprets that as a very bad sign, takes a deep calming breath and shakes his head.

"No," he says. Oikawa makes a small nod, and finally takes his coat off.

"There was supposed to be a talk, right?"

"Yes," Iwaizumi admits, scrunching his face. "Kind of. Have I-"

"Have I overstepped yesterday?" Oikawa interrupts him, taking the words right out of his mouth. Iwaizumi deflates even more, tilting his head in confusion. "Last night, I might have been a little... hasty?"

"What are you talking about?"

"We had a talk, and then you wanted to have another talk, that you possibly planned to have today, and I... well. You know. Stop tilting your head from side to side, you look like a damn dog."

"Oh, I'm sorry, what now? Is it shyness I hear? Are you... is _that_ why you bounced so early today? To avoid me?"

Now it's Oikawa's turn to look confused. "What? No! I had a job - I left you a message!" He throws his hand towards the kitchen.

"Oh, you actually had a job?"

Oikawa huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes. "Yes, genius, Akaashi called me. He managed to book me for a photo shoot."

Iwaizumi raises his hand to silence him, and then points to the envelope. "What's that money?"

"Rent, duh?" Oikawa rolls his eyes again, sinking onto the couch next to Iwaizumi, who automatically moves to make some space.

"Yes, do you think I feel comfortable knowing I live here, off you and the kindness of your heart, like a leech? Of course I'm gonna pay the rent!"

"But-" One single stern glance from Oikawa makes Iwaizumi reconsider. It's really the proper thing to do, and it's not like Oikawa lives off of separate food source. "Okay, fair enough." He acknowledges and sits back, turning to watch the TV.

Oikawa manages to sit idly for exactly three minutes before he shoots up, murmuring about hunger cramps, so Iwaizumi points him towards the kitchen.

"So I was wondering," Iwaizumi sits sideways on the couch so he can watch the late night news and Oikawa at once. "Is modelling a full time job?"

Oikawa pauses in slurping the home made ramen and gives Iwaizumi a look. "It isn't. Where is this coming from. Is it the money?" Iwaizumi nods. "I don't make too much money by modelling yet, but I did invest all my volleyball and insurance money to bionic prosthesis development. Now I hold a small share - or something."

"You don't sound too sure."

"Well, I get money, the rest was my agent's doing."

"Is he still employed?" Iwaizumi wonders silently, turning back to glance at the news.

"Not anymore. He taught me a thing or two, I got all the papers, and his word on picking up the phone whenever I need help. I'm trying to work my way towards a proper modelling career, so hopefully, I'll get another agent soon."

That ends the conversation, and Iwaizumi lets Oikawa finish his bowl and quickly reads the small letters on the bottom of the screen to catch up with the really important news instead of watching the report about two foreign politicians exchanging fists in the parliament. He doesn't pay attention to Oikawa when he plops down next to him with a bowl full with tangerines again.

"So about the rent-" Iwaizumi tries when the news start showing stock reports but Oikawa immediately shoves a bunch of tangerines into his mouth to silence him.

"Eat. Don't talk."

So he eats them, and keeps quiet, watching the reports, and when Oikawa finishes the bowl and starts searching for a more comfortable position to curl himself in, Iwaizumi turns off the lights and surfs the channels in search for something to watch. Oikawa whines when he passes by the cooking channel, and Iwaizumi soon finds out there is really nothing better to watch, so he goes back to it, getting a happy cheer as a thanks.

They watch in relevant silence at first, the only interruption being a few quips from Oikawa about horrible choices in jewellery from time to time, or a wistful sigh when a meal is presented. There are more things he comments on as the time but Iwaizumi hardly pays attention to them. He tries to cope with the déjà vu while mentally making a list for shopping for next week, not minding Oikawa when he starts shedding clothes. Iwaizumi lets him burrow his foot under his warmed thigh, hissing when he feels just how cold it is. Oikawa arches an eyebrow at him and lays his other leg over Iwaizumi's lap.

This gets no protests at all, because now, Iwaizumi is able to marvel at the technological masterpiece from up close.

And he get so distracted by it, he forgets to keep his hands to himself. Only when Oikawa giggles and catches his hand, he realizes he's been feeling and prodding the in-grown socket and the area around it like a creep.

"Sorry." He murmurs, looking back down at it.

"It's fine, but it tickles."

"It's amazing!" Iwaizumi breathes, tracing his fingers down the line where the flesh stops and the metal begins.

"Is it?" Oikawa wonders, but his voice falls kind of flat, and Iwaizumi definitely notices.

"I'm sorry, it's just... I am amazed how far humanity has moved. I mean - I don't really know when exactly have we crossed the threshold of attaching something like this to a body without any complications. Iwaizumi expects some smart quip but the silence makes him look up.

"Have we really? I wonder." Oikawa murmurs as he sits up, scrutinizing the bionic limb. "This is still just a prototype."

Iwaizumi rests his hand over the scar. "So there still may be complications? How often should you do check-ups? Are there any pills you need to take?"

"Hold on there, doctor." Oikawa laughs, quieting down when he notices Iwaizumi's intense face. "I do check-ups every other week, and I take pills every day."

"Any inflammations?"

"Not yet. Can you stop this?" Oikawa rolls his eyes, taking the leg off Iwaizumi's lap, resting it on the ground.

"Alright, alright." They share a long look and then Iwaizumi finally gives in. "Fine, I'll stop." His eyes still keep straying downwards.

They return to watching the cooking channel but Iwaizumi finds himself wondering about many other questions. One in particular has been bothering him lately, and he curses himself for not checking when Oikawa was still engrossed with watching.

"I can hear you think." Oikawa quips, giving him a side eye. "I swear to God, if you don't stop, I'll just disconnect it and give it to you since you pay more attention it than to me."

"It's just-" Iwaizumi sighs, raking his hand through his hair in frustration. "One last thing."

"Alright?"

"Can you... Like, how bendable is it?"

Oikawa turns back to look at him, blinking at him while he struggles with his words.

"Like, can you.... kneel with it, for example?"

The little  genuinely surprised 'o' that Oikawa's mouth forms lasts for about a second, and when a sly grin takes over, Iwaizumi realizes just what exactly he has just let out of his stupid mouth.

"Iwa!"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Iwaizumi quickly backpedals, but Oikawa is already leaning towards him with a predatory grin.

"Hold on- no! Wait! I didn't-!" Iwaizumi protests, catching Oikawa's hands as they creep onto his chest. "I didn't mean it like that!" He yells, earning a slap over his mouth from Oikawa and a giggly shush.

"You're loud and I haven't even started."

"Oikawa!" Iwaizumi warns, his voice creeping a few octaves higher as Oikawa pushes him to lean against the armrest and sprawls on top of him with a cheeky but thankfully harmless smile. He hums innocently, blinking several times for added emphasis.

Iwaizumi can feel his heart doing flips in his chest, and suddenly, the dilemma he was facing that morning seems like the stupidest thing ever.

"It's weird," Oikawa whispers with a thousand-yard stare, resting his head on Iwaizumi's chest. "We weren't like this before."

Iwaizumi knows exactly what he means.

They act like strangers, like newly acquainted people who aren't sure what they really are yet. They weren't like this before, not back in the university when they twenty and eager for each other's touch, never worrying about the consequences. Iwaizumi remembers their match and what came after. It's not like haven't touched, or kissed, or even slept together before.

"You know, there was a man in America." Oikawa starts, voice calm and quiet.

"Is there a story that doesn't begin with 'there was a man'?" Iwaizumi asks, only half-joking. Oikawa takes it with a stride, huffing out a little chuckle.

"No, probably not. Not in my case," he rests his chin on his hand, looking straight into Iwaizumi's eyes.

It seems like he's ready for the last _talk._ Iwaizumi takes a breath to calm his heart, aware that Oikawa's palm is resting right above it, and listens about the photographer who kindly asked Oikawa for a date and got turned down.

"He tried again, and he was that type you can't just say no to, or when you do, you feel incredibly guilty about it. But the second time he asked me, he said it is a friends date, and I can chose where to go and what to do. So we went to a bar, we had drinks and he took me to his place, where we continued with whatever bottle we found. He was kind, and goofy and always backed down when he thought he crossed the line. And then I remember waking up," Oikawa pauses, taking a breath. Iwaizumi is not sure he really wants to hear what happened but Oikawa doesn't give him the time to stop him.

"He shook me awake, and you know, seeing a concerned face fist thing in the morning is not a pleasant way to wake up." He sighs sadly. "I was panicking, I didn't know what was going on but then he let me go and rubbed his stupid, goofy, scrabble imprinted face and went off to kitchen to make the breakfast as if nothing happened."

"He said I was talking in my sleep, or well, talking - but not really quietly, so he woke me up." He sighs again.

"You're afraid to sleep around people because you talk in your sleep?" Iwaizumi asks, struggling to grasp the real issue there.

Oikawa shakes his head. "After the accident, I couldn't sleep because of the pain. And sometimes it got so bad I woke Wakatoshi up. It... escalated - you don't want to hear about that." He adds quickly when Iwaizumi opens his mouth. "Trust me. But I just, kind of keep doing stuff in my sleep. It's like my unconscious mind is still not happy with the state my body is in so that's a way of protesting. I just, talk, or scream, or I don't know. I don't really want to find out. I fall out of bed more often than when I was a child." He laughs nervously. "I'm really afraid to fall asleep next to people - I just don't want to be a bother again. Not after what I've done to Wakatoshi."

He leaves that hanging in the air and watches Iwaizumi digest it.

"And yes, I do consult a shrink." It feels like he's having a hard time confessing that.

Iwaizumi nods his head, licks his lips, and gently squeezes Oikawa's face with his hands.

"Alright," is all he says. Calm, composed, and open minded. "Thank you for telling me."

"Mm, thank you for being patient with me."

The story is sinking in but there is one thing that bothers Iwaizumi. "You sad 'scrabble imprinted face'?"

Oikawa laughs. "Oh that. Well, we got drunk, and he took me home - his home, and we played Scrabble all night. He kept reminding me that Japanese words do not count and we argued so long he passed out on the board."

"That's so... stupid."

"Didn't expect that?" Oikawa asks, voice gaining that purposely naive and innocent tone.

Iwaizumi messes up his hair, shushing him when he starts shrieking like a banshee. "Honestly? No. Not in your case." He throws Oikawa's own phrase back at him.

"Mean. And rude!"

"Yes rude, you little minx." Iwaizumi argues, trying to keep a stern face despite feeling relieved and kind of happy. Maybe they have finally crossed that last line.

"Hmm, a minx you say?"

That low, purring tone resonates through Iwaizumi's body, but Oikawa's sleepy look and content, relieved smile let him know that the day is over, and the issue closed. They fall asleep like that - Oikawa sprawled on top of Iwaizumi, resting his head on his chest, and even if Iwaizumi feels a little weird, in many senses, Oikawa's half-asleep smooch on the corner of his mouth makes his thoughts scatter.

They don't bring up the topic anymore, but Iwaizumi makes sure to let Oikawa know that waking him up at night is absolutely okay - he has worked night shifts with the paramedics, a job that naturally comes with unstable sleeping schedules and a mind trained to jump into action at a moment's notice. He tells him indirectly of course. By sitting him down on the chair one day and launching a rant at him that lasts for a good half an hour before Oikawa just slaps his palm over his mouth and confirms that he gets it. And with that, the issue remains officially closed and solved.

They fall into a comfortable routine of busy weeks and leisurely weekends spent in front of the TV watching cooking shows and trashy soap operas just like they used to. They put together shopping lists and argue over who should cook and who should clean the dishes, and in cases when they are both too lazy to stand by the stove they order takeouts and steal from each other's plate. They fall asleep on the couch more often than not, and Iwaizumi realizes over some time that he hasn't changed into his pyjamas for over two weeks. He also notices that their inner clock during the few days when they don't have to get up in the morning moved a little.

But that is not the only thing that moved. The personal space barrier has as well, gradually vanishing from the pane of their existence. Their touches are no longer hesitant, and comments less tentative, and what Iwaizumi is pleased with the most are the little pecks they trade whenever the suitable occasion presents itself. It starts with a sloppy morning kiss anywhere but on the mouth that makes Iwaizumi feel like a they are in a damn movie until he actually has to get up and push Oikawa's heavy frame off him. He gets a peck when he returns from work, or sometimes, when Oikawa is up, he gets one before he leaves. He gives his own little kisses in return every time he finds Oikawa curled up on the couch after a difficult day of interviews and taking photos, and it is clear that something's bothering him. Those kisses either turn into fooling around that ends up with a couple of bruises - courtesy of Oikawa's damn metal leg, or just turn into a very heated make out session that leaves them both breathless and wishing they had put the pack of tissues a little bit closer. Somewhere around that time, Iwaizumi finds out just how flexible Oikawa's leg is, and that he has no problems whatsoever with kneeling. He also finds out a couple of more things, like the newfound liking of Oikawa's reading glasses, and despite trying to keep tight lipped about that, Oikawa catches on pretty quickly, and doesn't hesitate to indulge him, not forgetting to tease him about it on more than one occasion. Oikawa soon decides to buy a fake pair just for their bedroom escapades.

They don't talk about what they are - they just somehow underwent a smooth transition from awkward to comfortable (in a very broad sense of the word) and left it at that, without labelling themselves or going through the awkward talk concerning the boyfriend slash partner slash whatever thing. Oikawa seems pretty content with that, and while Iwaizumi doesn't bother to lie to whomever asks him about his relationship status - the answer is always taken and nothing more, he knows that Oikawa must once again go through the tedious process of keeping a straight face while saying 'no' to the interviewers and his many fans.

They are comfortable, supportive, and happy, and even though they argue every week about stupid things, shouting at each other from the other side of the couch about overworking, skipping meals, leaving dirty dishes in the sink or not being communicative enough - an argument that has Iwaizumi yelling "Fucking talk to me!" in late evenings, ten minutes of cold shoulders is enough cool down time for them to calm down and Oikawa to start burying his foot under Iwaizumi's thigh.

"You know," Oikawa starts after a particularly spicy exchange, "when I was with Wakatoshi, it was always me who used to complain about lack of communication. I'm kind of glad it's you now."

"No problem, asshole." Iwaizumi nods resolutely, messing up Oikawa's hair.

"I know you love me, darling," Oikawa jokes as he stretches his long legs. He reaches out to pat both Iwaizumi's cheeks, feeling the stubble he hasn't bothered to shave, and doesn't expect Iwaizumi to say _'of course'_ so calmly and casually, it leaves him speechless.

Iwaizumi is quite satisfied with himself. It slides off his tongue pretty easily, and even though Oikawa's face looks a little freaked out at first, it smoothes out into a giddy grin that leaves them both smiling throughout the next hour.

But no matter how at peace they seem to be with each other, Iwaizumi is unable to control  the outer disturbing elements which ruin that peace and complicate things for them both. Like the constant passively-worried emails from Oikawa's mother and the fact that Oikawa has started to pay less attention to his phone. It's at the beginning of December, and while Iwaizumi feels like an intervention in the Oikawa family matters might be crossing a very improper line, the constant tension in Oikawa's shoulders and his constant state of distractedness makes their household harmony all messed up.

The breaking point comes pretty unexpected. Iwaizumi wakes up in the middle of the night with a weird feeling, and when he notices the faint light coming from the kitchen, and checks the time, he knows that there is definitely something wrong. He comes out with a sigh, shielding his eyes from the small corner light.

Oikawa is sitting at the table, chin resting in his palm and his left foot tucked under his thigh, absentmindedly turning his phone in his hand. He's only in his short-sleeved sleeping shirt and underwear and Iwaizumi mentally recites a string of curses, because the kitchen is not the warmest place in his flat at night.

He stands by the entrance, patiently waiting until Oikawa finally acknowledges him.

"What the fuck," Iwaizumi rasps quietly, half blind and having absolutely no idea why he's whispering, since there is nobody else than them around.

"Can't sleep," Oikawa says, lying down on the table with a tired sigh.

Iwaizumi looks around forlornly, throwing his hands in the air while mentally asking for help. "Why?" He asks, despite knowing where the problem lies. He hasn't picked up his phone for ages, and Iwaizumi is not as blind and oblivious as many might believe.

"Your father again?"

Oikawa hums and rubs his eyes. It's four in the goddamn morning and Iwaizumi really isn't in the ideal mood to deal with it at the moment. And it's not like he wants to deal with it anyway. He grabs Oikawa's hand and tugs him out of his seat, all protests falling on deaf ears as Iwaizumi growls impatiently, intertwining their fingers.

"Come," he urges quietly, his other hand grabbing Oikawa by the back of his neck to still him enough to press a kiss to his lips. He drags him to the bedroom where he shoves him on the bed and falls down next to him, still holding onto his hand.

"Give it some time," he says, thumb rubbing the knuckles of Oikawa's hand. It doesn't seem to work too much, but when he cranes his neck to kiss him and wrap his arms around him, Oikawa doesn't protest and soon they are making out, hands tangled in hair and mouths devouring each other without any holdbacks.

Iwaizumi wakes up naked in the morning, but when he checks the time, he finds out it is way past the point where he can even say 'morning' and he doesn't mind one bit. He doesn't care that he's probably grinning like an idiot, not when he can spoon Oikawa from behind and rub his cold nose against his nape. Oikawa makes a soft sound that's something between a sigh and a laugh, arches his back, and presses his ass against Iwaizumi's loin, and that's all Iwaizumi needs to get himself going again.

Oikawa doesn't complain one bit, and welcomes the slow, sweet pace Iwaizumi sets for the morning.

From that point on, Iwaizumi doesn't bother to make a separate bed for Oikawa in the living room - there is no point, and there was no point even well before that. They have fallen asleep together pretty often anyway. However, there is one thing Iwaizumi doesn't know how to solve, and that is Oikawa's unexpected habit of resting his damn bionic leg against Iwaizumi's poor back.

It is fine as long as it's during sex - the cool metallic surface feels more than fine wrapped around his waist or pressed against his ass or thighs when they're at it, which is something Iwaizumi hasn't even dreamt about - but having something hard and cold being pressed against his kidneys is not a pleasant thing to wake up to.  

Iwaizumi hates it, but he starts tucking his pyjamas in his pants before going to bed, and even though Oikawa has a laugh at it every evening, it's better than to have his lower back abused.

The initial family problem remains unsolved and forgotten, and while Iwaizumi doesn't feel too good about it, he is glad Oikawa slips into a normal sleeping schedule and doesn't mope around as often as he used to. He does talk in his sleep from time to time, and even trashes around, sometimes in pain, sometimes just because his mind is restless, but it's nothing a pill or a hug can't solve.

 Matsukawa and Hanamaki drop by for a kind-of-unannounced-but-not-really sleepover visit a week before Christmas, and the moment Iwaizumi and Oikawa sit down next to each other on the couch, the two immediately suggested they should have a double Christmas date and bake their own strawberry shortcake. Neither Iwaizumi nor Oikawa have any idea how those two sniffed out their unofficial relationship status change but Makki and Matsun kindly offer an explanation.

"You sat down exactly ten inches away from each other, and Iwaizumi touched your shoulder when you were making tea." Makki waggles his finger, reciting the sentence with his nose held high and eyes closed as if he had it memorized.

"And you looked at each other for two seconds too long." Matsukawa joins in, nodding his head slowly.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa gape at them, faces screwed in identical frowns.

"What?" Iwaizumi splutters in a falsetto squeak while Oikawa scrunches his nose further in confusion.  

Makki and Matsun share a mischievous look before they burst out laughing and then turn towards the bedroom, pointedly looking at it. Iwaizumi follows the direction and finds out that the door was left opened, their bed unmade and containing clothes belonging to him and Oikawa both. Those are clear enough clues, although the biggest give away about Oikawa's sleeping place is the big, plush alien head squeezed between their pillows.  

"You left the door open." Makki chirps happily after he turns around and takes a sip of his tea.

"Told you you should have gone for a more traditional flat." Matsun adds, shuffling in his seat to get more comfortable. "Or a bigger one."

"So?" Hanamaki tilts his head, waiting.

"So what?" Iwaizumi frowns, still not up to date with what is really going on. He looks at Oikawa for help - and to find out if he's comfortable with the two stuffing their nose into things that don't concern them - and finds out that he is completely at ease, and already up to date with what the duo at the other side of the table are plotting.

"Fine." Oikawa bites out pointedly, his voice announcing defeat. "We're-" he looks at Iwaizumi and then shrugs, "together, yes. As in partners. In a relationship-"

"Boy-friends!" Makki sing songs, cupping his hands around his mouth to make it louder.

"Lover-birds!" Matsun sighs wistfully, placing a palm on his heart.

"Shut up." Iwaizumi shoots them down with an annoyed frown as he sits back and rests his arm along the length of the back pillows, right behind Oikawa.

"Uuh, look at them. So much PDA already." Hanamaki giggles behind his hand.

"Why did you let them in?" Iwaizumi turns towards Oikawa.

"Because you told me to."

Thankfully, Makki and Matsun drop the teasing - as much as they can, which is not too much - so they enjoy the next couple of hours chatting and telling each other stories from work, until Makki excitedly claps and rubs his hands together,  prompting Iwaizumi to join him in the kitchen to make the cake.

The afternoon bleeds into a subdued evening filled with bad cheesy jokes, lots of cake and whipped cream, and Matsukawa betting Iwaizumi he can squeeze more marshmallows into his mouth than him. Matsukawa wins of course, and after he's done puffing his chest like he just won an Olympic medal, Iwaizumi remembers he has news to announce.

"Oh yeah," he says, blinking as if he just woke up from a dream. "I finally got a proper contract. I've officially finished my paediatric residency." Oikawa, Matsukawa and Hanamaki look at him in various state of confusion until he clarifies."I've signed a contract last week - I'm an official doctor at the hospital starting with the New Year."

There is a beat of silence during which they all digest the news and then they start screaming at him all at once, because apparently, the by-the-way way of announcement of such news is not appropriate. He gets congratulated, obnoxiously smooched and hugged, and after all the fuss is over, Iwaizumi whips out a vintage bottle of Sake, which they share during the night.

They don't catch a wink of sleep. Iwaizumi is more or less used to it, but he knows Oikawa is dead on his feet by the time the sun starts dawning. Hanamaki and Matsukawa seem generally unaffected as well, but the constant eye-rubbing gives them off. Iwaizumi tries to talk them into staying another day but they both politely decline - work awaits apparently - and Iwaizumi sees that they'd rather stay than go back, but really can't. They congratulate Iwaizumi again, and then him and Oikawa both for successfully finally, officially, getting together, and take their leave.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa stand by the door, quietly waiting for the noise from the stairs to quiet down, and then dive into cleaning up. Iwaizumi keeps an eye on Oikawa to make sure he won't fall asleep and drown in the sink while he gathers all the trash, and seeing that his head is dipping lower and lower with every glass he polishes, he finally takes pity on him, shooing him off to go to bed. Oikawa makes a weak effort to argue that he's fine, but Iwaizumi has none of it, and throws him over his shoulder, dumping him on the bed himself.

"Now you have to stay here with me!" Oikawa laughs, wrapping his arms and legs around Iwaizumi when he tries to leave.

"Gotta take out the trash first. Be right back though."

"You better!"

To be honest, Iwaizumi isn't really even that sleepy, and the crisp winter air wakes him up even more, but the moment he returns to the flat and enters the dim-lighted bedroom, he can't resist the call of his bed. Oikawa is already knocked out, taking almost the whole bed, but Iwaizumi gently pushes him to the side, earning himself a couple of grumps that quiet down as soon as he spoons him from the back, and the next thing he knows, it's middle of the night and Oikawa is nowhere to be found. Iwaizumi glances towards the door and stares at the thin ray of light that filters into the door from the kitchen through the cracked door. He buries his head into the pillow to suppress a sigh.

He's not really surprised to find Oikawa at the table again, staring at this phone, hands rested in his lap. He looks a little freaked out.

"Family matters bothering you again?" Iwaizumi asks, taking a seat next to him. He really doesn't feel like dealing with that at the moment, but Oikawa looks like he just saw a ghost. "Wouldn't it be easier if you just picked up and--"

"I did." Oikawa interrupts quietly, making Iwaizumi close his mouth with a click. At midnight. Why would they call him at midnight? Iwaizumi waits a long enough while to see if Oikawa would elaborate, but it seems like it's the Q and A time again.

"And? Did you get disowned? Did your dad-" He cuts himself off when Oikawa whips his head around to look at him. He momentarily thinks he's crossed some kind of line, but Oikawa doesn't look angry - he looks like he just woke up.

"They... want me to come over for New Year."

"And the problem is? Where exactly?"

Oikawa shakes his head at him as if he just started trying to convince him the Earth is flat. "I don't want to go - we already have plans for New Year, don't we?"

"Then I'll go with you. Problem solved." Iwaizumi shrugs. "We visit your family, tell them we're dating, then we'll go to my family, and tell _them_ we're dating."

"But," Oikawa starts and immediately deflates, going back to stare at his phone. "It's gonna be awkward."

Iwaizumi laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the table. He nudges Oikawa's shoulder with his head, and puts his feet on Oikawa's cold one under the table. "Oh yeah, definitely," he grins. "Who cares - I'm going to be there with you. Remember what I told you last time? It's going to be fine. Now come to bed, you're over-thinking again." Iwaizumi grabs his hand, dragging him back to the bedroom. Oikawa has that surprised-wide-eyed-cat look going on and Iwaizumi can't help but to mess up his hair and pinch his cheeks. That finally gets a proper reaction.

"What if they kick me out?" Oikawa whines, rubbing his abused cheeks.

"You mean like officially? Then we stay at my parents' house," Iwaizumi grumbles with his head shoved into the pillow. "You live here anyway." He waits for a retort but he gets none, and when he feels Oikawa lie down next to him, he knows the argument is successfully over.

* * *

Iwaizumi is slowly pushed to the edge of his sanity over the week. He knows Oikawa is not sleeping well, but at least he doesn't find him sitting alone in the kitchen during ungodly hours. He's still bothered by the new year, but at least he's picking up his mother's calls. Iwaizumi takes him out shopping to take his mind off things, and it thankfully helps. They stop in a coffee house on the way back and order coffee and one strawberry shortcake which they share, uncaring of whoever sees them.

It's the twenty-fourth, and they finally have the chance to do this together after so many years. Iwaizumi is a little bit nervous at first, but when Oikawa looks at him with a giant happy smile, he knows he's come to terms with coming out publicly.

A week later, they are in the newspapers - occupying the upper corner of the fifth page in a glossy magazine that sells for fashion. Nothing too important, but it is an issue they find on the living room table when they finally visit Oikawa's parents.

They sit together on the couch, thighs and shoulders brushing, and while Oikawa has his eyes cast down like a guilty child, Iwaizumi stubbornly holds his head high, staring straight into Oikawa's father's eyes. He's not challenging, not daring him to disapprove of them. He's open and ready for anything he might have to say. When Oikawa's mother comes to join them with a tray of tea, Iwaizumi thanks her with a kind smile, and immediately grabs one for himself, pushing one into Oikawa's hands as well to keep him occupied.

Mrs. Oikawa is busying herself with bringing snacks on the table and chirping about how they have been doing and congratulating Iwaizumi on his newly secured job and other unimportant small talk, and Iwaizumi notices how unbothered she is by her quiet, brooding husband. Oikawa is a perfect blend of them both - on one hand cheerful, happy and carefree, assured and above all things just like his mother, but proud, sharp and unyielding like his father when presented with a challenge. The occasional insecurity and stubbornness is just his own, and all of it mixed together make him what he is, and all what Iwaizumi decided to love and fight for.

He takes Oikawa's hand and squeezes it tight before turning back to look at his father.

"Are you two together?" He asks, calm and focussed. He doesn't sound angry, or tense, or anything else. It surprises Iwaizumi a bit. He goes to answer but Oikawa beats him to it.

 "Yes." He says, voice neutral and unwavering like his father's .

Iwaizumi expects some challenge, some threatening maybe? Or even a frown. He's disappointed though. Oikawa's father looks at his wife - who patiently waits next to him a huge fond smile - and with a deep sigh and a shrug, he speaks again. 

"Alright then."

Iwaizumi and Oikawa stare, completely flabbergasted and speechless, their mouths hanging open.

"That is all?" Oikawa blurts out, his voice a mixture of anger, disbelief and resignation. Iwaizumi squeezes his hand before he can stir up another argument.

Oikawa's father looks at his wife again, and this time Iwaizumi sees who really has the upper hand in the marriage.

"Yes." He says, rather lamely. "I am not happy about it," he tilts his head with a tiny squint, earning himself a _look_ from his wife, "but it is your life, and as long as you're happy, I'll be at peace." He recites, and Iwaizumi covers his laugh with a very fake cough. "What about you, Hajime?"

Iwaizumi wipes the last traces of laugh from his face, clears his throat and straightens up. "Well my parents already know, so..."

"Do they?" Oikawa's father raises an eyebrow but his wife cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder.

"Marvellous then!" She twitters happily, clapping her hands. "Now that we put this behind us, who is ready for some dinner? Tooru, Hajime, go unpack your things, I'm going to set the table."

They are both swept out of the room and ushered upstairs faster than they could voice their protests or offer their help, and when Iwaizumi hauls their last luggage through the door, he hears a distinct ' _I'm so proud of you_ ' softly echo from the kitchen, followed by an exaggerated sigh.

"What did I tell you?" He asks after he quietly closes the door of Oikawa's old room, putting his hands on his hips. Oikawa himself is sitting on his bed, passively staring at the opposite wall. 

"I just... still can't believe. He just-"

"He just accepted it, yes. Like a proper," he doesn't want to say whipped, but whipped, "adult with an opened mind." And a strict, but wonderful wife. "Unpack your things, dummy." Iwaizumi orders, starting with the biggest bag, filled with their clothes. He senses Oikawa stalling, but he soon starts sorting out the smaller cosmetic bags, and the ones where they put all the gifts.

"Hey, what is this?" Oikawa murmurs, and when Iwaizumi turns around to look, he bites his tongue to stop himself from cursing.

He totally forgot about those.

"That is... for you." Iwaizumi says awkwardly, suddenly feeling too hot. Oikawa looks from the bag filled packages of various sizes, all with the same cyan bow on top. "Remember how we used to trade gifts on Christmas?"

Oikawa looks back, biting his lower lip to contain the huge smile that's threatening to split his face.

"I never got the chance to give you the ones after you left to France."

Oikawa gives up on trying to hide his smile and graces Iwaizumi with the biggest and brightest one yet. It dims a little though, and Oikawa takes one out and turns it around his hand.

"I don't have anything for you, though."

"You're with me." Iwaizumi says, and starts sweating even more. "That's a gift enough." Suddenly he has his arms full of laughing Oikawa, and even though he gets an earful of teasing for the cheesiest line ever, he gets a very nice, hot and very long kiss as a reward.

"There's more, though." Iwaizumi says distractedly when they separate to catch their breaths.

"Another surprise?" Oikawa murmurs, pressing kisses to the corner of Iwaizumi's mouth, making it difficult for him to concentrate. He sits down on the ground, Oikawa nestling himself in his lap, and reaches towards the bag filled with Oikawa's forgotten Christmas gifts, shuffling inside until the finally finds what he is looking for.

"I wanted to give you this." He says as he takes Oikawa's hand and puts a tiny square box in the middle of his palm. Oikawa tenses up, staring at the box as if Iwaizumi had just dropped a huge beetle bug on it, so Iwaizumi returns the small kisses with one of his own, and gently opens the box. Oikawa stops his hand though, and looks at him like a scared child. Iwaizumi can read all his worries off the reflection of his eyes.

"I know how you hate saying goodbyes." He says slowly, taking Oikawa's hand away and finally opening the box, revealing a silver, ornamented ring with a oval stone in the middle that looks like a small galaxy.

"But this year, I want you to say a goodbye to all the mess you've been through for the past few years, and enter the New Year with me and consider it a fresh start. It's not an engagement ring - we've been hardly together for a couple of months. But I'm hoping that one day, I can give you one. If we don't tear each other apart because of some stupid argument." He jokes with a fond smile. Oikawa's lips are wobbling and his eyes are filled with tears but there is a blush on his cheeks and he's gripping the box so hard in his hands, Iwaizumi is sure it will soon get crushed.

"Hajime!" Oikawa sobs, throwing himself around Iwaizumi's neck once again, crying into his shoulder.

"Gosh, you're so gross." Iwaizumi laments, wrapping his arms around him without any hesitation. "You're gonna ruin my shirt and the dinner has not even started." He laughs, making Oikawa wail some more.

* * *

They go to Sendai for the New Year's Eve. Without parents, without family to bother them, they go skating in one of the ice rinks until ten, and then walk hand in hand down the Jozenji street, enjoying the Pageant of Starlight. They warm each other up with a cup of hot coffee in one of the less busy cafes and then make their way to the centre to watch the fireworks.

On the way there, Oikawa notices the numerous couples murmuring to each other, living in their own little private world, not concerned with anyone else. They blend in perfectly. Iwaizumi is looking around, chattier than usual, and Oikawa only half-listens to him and his rant about Santas on motorcycles, too busy to memorize the twinkle in his eyes that lights up his face, the width of his unshaven jaw that makes him look older, but ruggedly handsome, the few strands of greying hair on his temples that remind him of how much time has passed since the evening after their last lost match, when they promised to each other to move on without hesitation.

The sound of engines interrupts Oikawa's train of nostalgic thoughts, and follows the direction that Iwaizumi excitedly points out for him - those motorbike Santas really do make an appearance, and Oikawa tries to focus on what Iwaizumi is saying, but he really can't keep up with his super fast rant about bikes and their qualities. What he does know, is that the next chance he gets, he'll ask around the modelling company is there is a way they can get him in the next promotion shoot for Japan's Major Motor Show.

The crowd starts to cheer as the Santas pass, and Oikawa follows them with his eyes all the way down the street, until a familiar face catches his eye. He squints further to make sure he is not mistaken, but when the man turns his head as if feeling his stare, their eyes meet, and Oikawa has no doubt.

He feels his face stretch with a smile, and when Ushijima finally blinks his own surprise away, he raises his hand and waves at him, getting a small wave in return. Ushijima then turns around to talk to someone obscured by the crowd, but then starts making his way through the throng of people towards him.

Oikawa squeezes Iwaizumi's hand to let him know they're about to have company, jerking his head towards there Ushijima is shuffling through the crowd.

"We should get a table somewhere." Iwaizumi suggests after a critical one-over of the mass of heads that surround them. He waves at Ushijima to catch his attention, and Oikawa almost laughs how abruptly he stops in his tracks, but when Iwaizumi points out towards the side of the park where all the cafes are, Ushijima gives a single nod and changes his course towards the new destination.

Oikawa doesn't know what he expected, but Iwaizumi surprised him anyway.

They navigate their way out of the crowd, muttering 'excuse me's under their breaths for at least a hundred times, and meet with Ushijima on the emptier side of the way, next to a souvenir shop. He's not alone though. The much smaller brunette at his side greets them with a modest bow and a quiet _'hello'._

"You know Shirabu, right?" Ushijima says, gesturing to his partner.

"Yes, of course!" Oikawa beams, and reminds Iwaizumi of the Shiratorizawa setter when he makes that one-eyed squint of I'm-not-really-sure.

 "Any special plans for the evening?" Oikawa asks, watching Ushijima and Shirabu exchange a look.

"Not really," Shirabu says finally, making a half-shrug. "Just to walk around and enjoy the last evening of the light show. We wanted to find a good place to watch the fireworks though."

Oikawa looks at Iwaizumi in silent question, and when he gets a shrug and a nod back, he takes it as a permit to ask. "May we join?"

"Of course." Ushijima says after sharing his own telepathic conversation with Shirabu.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi follow them down the street, and when they find a spot with a clear sight of the sky, they wait together for the year to end.

"You know," Oikawa whispers into Iwaizumi's ear when the countdown beings, "I'm really happy right now."

Iwaizumi grins at him, giving his hand a little squeeze. Oikawa takes a short glance at Ushijima who's whispering something into Shirabu's red ear, and then quickly pecks Iwaizumi's mouth.

"Happy New Year!" he whispers, and with the first screech of fireworks, they share a long and heart warming kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe I wrote something that doesn´t end in angst.....


End file.
